Resolutions
by Bidwench
Summary: Cupcake story, but Ranger friendly. Post Twelve Sharp. Minor character death.
1. Chapter 1

Uusal disclaimers apply. Janet's characters, not making any money, just playing for awhile. I'll put everybody back where they belong when I'm finished. Also included are two songs, by Heartland and Peter Cetera. Not making any money off of those either.

Prologue

April

Ice crept down the back of my scalp, only to congeal in a frozen lead weight at the base of my neck. My eyes burned, and I had no idea how much time had elapsed since I last blinked. Maybe that was it—something was wrong with my eyes. I blinked against the hot sandpaper feel under my lids, and glared at the thing I had instinctively thrown against the far wall of the bathroom. My breath shuddered into my lungs, and I slowly circled around to the far side of the sink. Bombs, dismembered body parts, snakes, spiders—even homicidal maniacs I had learned to handle with some aplomb. My undoing on this rain-spattered morning was an innocent looking white plastic stick. Unfortunately, I had reason to believe the plastic stick wasn't nearly as innocent as it looked. Squinting down at the tiny lettering, the stick seemed to practically glow with two four-letter-words in a row: "Preg" and "Nant." My breath left me in a whoosh, and I sat down hard on the edge of the tub as my stomach started performing some demented form of calisthenics.

After giving in to a few minutes of stupor, I intentionally pushed the ramifications of the damn white stick firmly out of my mind, and my leaden backside off the tub. Work. I had to get ready for work. There would be plenty of time to figure out everything else that I was frantically stuffing down beneath the surface, but for right now, I would concentrate on going to work. Work would keep me busy and distracted and maybe by tonight I would have a plan. Or even an idea. A clue? Even better, maybe I would wake up to find the white plastic stick had only been a nightmare figment of my still-Catholic and therefore eternally guilty subconscious.

I'm sure Connie and Lula spoke to me, and I guess I answered them, but the normal office banter washed over me in an unintelligible wave. It had started in the car, when the Cooper had monotonously intoned "Pregnant, Pregnant, Pregnant," with every swipe of the wipers. Unfortunately, the litany was still playing loudly inside my head, and nothing from the outside world could penetrate. Finally, Lula's "Girl, you don't look so good," got through. Mumbling an excuse about coming down with something, I grabbed the new skip files from Connie's desk and bolted out the door before either friend could start asking questions I wasn't ready to answer.

I couldn't seem to get enough air in my lungs, so I left the Cooper at the curb, and walked around the block to try to clear my head. When I got to the alley side, I slammed nose-first into a black wall that resolved itself into Ranger's chest as I blinked my vision clear.

"Babe."

Not what I wanted to hear right now. It was just too close to another four-letter word I didn't want to think about yet. "Hey," I said, trying to sound normal, and apparently failing miserably.

"What is it?"

I shook my head mutely. I wasn't up to talking at the moment. I felt his strong fingers nudge my chin upward to look into his dark eyes. Without warning, the tears that had been struggling to the surface all morning spilled over. I felt his arms move around me, and his lips close gently on mine. The heat blossomed between us like it always did, and I felt warm for the first time since daybreak. I told myself it was just for a moment. It was okay to stand here and just bask in the warmth for this one moment, a moment stolen out of time. It was okay to just enjoy the feeling, with no worries about later, just take this one moment and savor it.

I don't know how long we had been standing locked in an embrace when some small sound must have broken our reverie. I looked past Ranger's shoulder to see Joe backing slowly out of the alleyway. His eyes wide, and his face bleached white with shock; he seemed to be receding down a tunnel in front of my eyes, even as my hand rose to reach out for him. "Joe, wait!"

I don't remember moving, but somehow I was standing in front of the bond office, pulling on the sleeve of Joe's jacket. He whirled to face me, and his face had lost its white pallor and was rapidly turning red. The warm brown eyes I thought I knew in every mood and emotion had turned hard and broken, staring through me, past me. "I'm through," he said to the empty air near my left ear, then turned to walk away.

"NO!" I meant to scream it, but it came out broken and lost and trembling.

"I am not your consolation prize, Stephanie," he bit out. "I won't be your stand in because you can't have the man you really want. You want him? You got him. Go on." He turned and was gone.

I felt the blood pounding through my head, and with every beat of my heart came a picture of Joe. Joe at eight in his father's garage, the sunlight streaming through the dirty window to illuminate our game of choo choo. Joe in middle school, all teeth and elbows, but still devastating to a Stephanie in braids and braces. Joe the jock in high school, with the girls buzzing around him like flies. Joe's face in the light of the Tasty Pastry case, eyes hot as his body moved over mine for the first time. A million Joes—trying not to laugh at my grandmother, exasperated with Albert Kloughn but determined to get him to the church to marry my sister. Joe in a bar fight to rescue Lula and Sally. Joe in the moonlight after we'd made love. Joe in the morning sun with the light glinting off his beard stubble as he moved above me in the dawn.

"No," I said again, and this time my voice was firm. Not this way. If we were going to be over, then let it be for the right reasons. If this was going to be "it", then let it be because it was well and truly over. But not like this. Not in the middle of the sidewalk with half of Trenton looking on while Joe made his pronouncement and once again walked out of my life.

I threw myself behind the wheel of the MiniCooper and headed toward Joe's house. He would eventually come home, and I would be waiting. I let myself in with my key, dodged Bob with practiced efficiency, and headed for the kitchen and the telephone. Trying to hide where I was would be worse than useless, and I wanted him on his home turf. I figured the pager would be useless, so I settled for a voice mail to his cell. "Joe, it's Stephanie. I'm at your house. I have some things I need to say to you. You can stay away as long as you want, but I'm not leaving until I've said them. Do you get me? I'm not leaving."

I had no idea how long I would have to wait, but settled in for the duration, lavishing attention on Bob in an attempt to stop my mind from running in wild circles. Surprisingly, I heard Joe's SUV pull into the drive less than ten minutes after I'd left the message. My stomach gave a lurch, and I took a deep breath as I stood to meet Joe face to face across the battlefield of his sofa.

"Talk. Say what you have to say and get out of my house."

"And then we're full circle once again, right? With nothing resolved, as we just sit here and spin in each other's orbit with one or the other of us walking away."

"I don't need this," and he turned and headed for the door. I saw red.

"Oh, that's rich. And how many times will this make, huh? I've lost count. Any time there's emotion or commitment or a disagreement, or hell, any time the wind blows from a direction you don't want, you walk." I was furious, but so was he.

"I walk? I walk! What about you? Every time we have an argument, you disappear! Hell, I'm thinking about installing a revolving door you've moved in and out so many times!"

"Did you ever think that maybe I walk out so I can beat you to it? Hell, for half my life, every time I had sex with you, the one thing I could count on was seeing your backside heading away from me, with no idea when I'd see you again. Maybe I just got tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop." Tears were glittering in my eyes, but I was too angry to let them fall.

"No way. No. I refuse to keep paying over and over again for what I did when I was young and stupid, Stephanie. I have been faithful to you and you know it. I've done my penance for the other." He suddenly deflated, his mouth pulled tight and his eyes distant. "I've done my penance."

"What are you talking about?" I had no idea what he meant. What kind of penance did he mean?

"You and Manoso. That was my penance." He inhaled and exhaled, and his voice got very quiet, so I had to strain to hear. "I shouldn't have said what I did, and I gave up any right to object when I told you it was over. After…after, I stood outside your door, knowing he was in there, in your bed, inside you, and I had noone to blame but myself. I had it coming. I couldn't go back and change anything, so all I could do was go forward. I tried to show you that I loved you, that we belonged together. The job didn't matter, Manoso didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that you know how much I loved you. But it wasn't enough." He turned and looked at me directly for the first time since the alley. "I think you should go."

"I'm not leaving."

I rubbed my hands up and down my arms in rhythmic jerks as I tried desperately to get my thoughts in order. "Joe, my relationship with Ranger was not your punishment. It was my choice, and I have to own it."

"He used you." The words fell like stones into the gaping silence. He moved to stand next to the fireplace, his face once again turned from me, closely examining the contents of his mantle.

I shook my head. "No. That would be too easy, Joe. It would be nice to let you direct all your anger at him, but the truth is…" I stopped as the realization dawned on me. "The truth is, I think we used each other. It was easy. He knew I loved you, and I knew there was no possibility of a real relationship, so we took the coward's way out. No emotional risk, no expectations. I'm not proud of it, but at the time it salved my pride."

"What about now? What I saw today? What about that, Stephanie?" His cop face was firmly in place, and I recognized the interrogation techniques he probably didn't even realize he'd fallen back on.

I took a steadying breath. "I'm not going to lie to you, Joe. There's an attraction there, and there have been times…" I trailed off, then regrouped. I was determined to make sure that everything was out on the table. "There have been times we came close to acting on it. But I only slept with Ranger once, Joe."

I tried not to flinch as the contents of the mantle splattered against the floor, small pieces of glass and ceramic flying into the four corners of the room.

"So today was what? Huh? Tell me exactly what today was. Tell me the difference between today and every other damn day in Trenton when the guys at the station think I can't overhear what they're laughing about. Except that today I saw with my own eyes what everyone else has been talking about for YEARS! I never trusted him, Steph, but I trusted you. I trusted US! I thought what we had together mattered as much to you as it did to me." His voice was angry, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "More fool me, right? Yeah." He turned his head and wouldn't even look at me.

"You're not a fool, Joe." The look he shot me made me recoil. "You're not. Joe, I don't know what to say except I am so sorry." I teared up and my voice broke, but I had to make sure he heard me. "I'm sorry Joe, more sorry than you can ever know. I never, ever meant to hurt you."

"You know what, Cupcake? You can keep your apologies. I don't need them. I don't need you, I don't need THIS. I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear from you. I want you out of my life. Can I make it any clearer?" I didn't even know this Joe. Hard-eyed, cold, he looked through me instead of at me.

"Joe, I'm…" I began. Then I stopped. I knew I could tell him I was pregnant, and he would come back to me. His sense of morality would force him to 'stand by me' for the sake of our child, no matter how he felt about me. Could I live with that? Could I wake up every morning next to this man, knowing he didn't love me, and he was only with me out of a misguided sense of obligation? I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it to him, couldn't do it to the baby, and selfishly, I couldn't do it to myself. Better to remember what we had, and let him go. He didn't deserve the pain I had caused him, and telling him about the pregnancy would only make things worse.

"Sorry." I finally spit out. Moving quickly before he could move out of the way, I brushed a quick kiss across his cheek. "I know I realized this too late, and I messed everything up. But I do love you." I took a deep breath and headed out the door. He didn't try to stop me, and I didn't look back. I'm proud to say that I managed to drive all the way to my parents' house before I fell apart and howled like a baby.

October 31

Joe pulled his jacket collar up around his ears in an attempt to ward off the chill wind that had started up in earnest since he began walking Bob. The kids had packed it in for the night, most of them far gone in sugar-induced stupors by now. The only folks left out this late on Halloween were kids up to no good. Frankly, Joe just didn't want to have to deal with anyone else. His candy bowl was empty, and he'd gone through his usual empty motions handing out candy and telling the kids how great their costumes were. Hurrying the dog along, Joe wanted nothing more than to get inside and warm, maybe crack open a beer in front of the television to stare numbly at the screen until he could reasonably go to bed. Every night was the same, the cold just made this one a little more miserable than usual. He came home from work, heated up something for dinner that he didn't taste, avoided phone calls from well-meaning relatives and friends as much as he could. He and Bob would make a fast walk around the neighborhood then call it a night. Sometimes, if he was lucky, they could manage to walk faster than his thoughts could catch up with him. Those were good nights. He didn't feel anything on those nights—no pain, no emptiness, no sadness. If he kept the volume on the television cranked loud enough, sometimes he could even keep his thoughts at bay awhile longer. But when it got later, though, there wasn't any more avoidance. He couldn't seem to tire himself out enough so that his thoughts didn't chase him through his dreams. Sometimes it was just a glimpse of her face masquerading as the shadow on a curtain, or a whiff of faded perfume as he rummaged through his closet. Other times he woke up sweating, rock hard and aching with need. Those nights he'd learned to just give up sleeping and walk until sunrise.

He turned the corner onto Slater, and his footsteps slowed. He could tell someone was sitting on his front porch in the cold. He caught a glimpse of a familiar profile in the streetlight, and felt like something exploded in his chest. Forcing cold air past the obstruction in his throat, he hurried up the walk and onto the porch.

"Hello, Joe."

The air whooshed out of his lungs, and the familiar ache settled back in his heart. For a moment, there, in the filtered light of the streetlight, he'd thought…well, he'd hoped…

"Hello, Mrs. Plum. What brings you out here on a night like this?"

"Could I come inside for a moment? I promise I won't stay long."

Belatedly, Joe realized they were still standing on the porch in the freezing cold, and he began fumbling his keys.

"Of course. Please come in." His thoughts were racing. Obviously, Mrs. Plum must be here about Stephanie. Oh, God—please let her be okay. He hadn't seen her since that day in April when she'd walked out his door and out of his life—at his own request. He knew that she packed up and moved a few weeks later and hadn't been seen in Trenton since. Manoso had disappeared about the same time, so he assumed they had gone together. He'd thought the pain couldn't get any worse, but he'd been wrong. He'd seriously wondered if it was possible to keep on living with that kind of pain, but discovered to his chagrin that his body wouldn't quit breathing in and out just because he wanted it to. He'd tied on a three-week bender, then abruptly decided he wasn't going down his old man's path either. After that, he concentrated on work. God knows there were enough scumbags in Trenton to keep him busy. He'd cut himself off from his family and his friends as much as he could, and continued with the motions of his life. He thought he was handling things pretty well, too, until a trick of the streetlight had proved him mistaken.

"Please, sit down. What can I do for you, Mrs. Plum?" Joe tried to keep his voice even, his emotions in check, cop face firmly in place.

"I brought something for you." At that, she seemed to be at a loss for words. Her hands worried at the package in her shopping bag, almost as if she couldn't decide what to do with it. Finally reaching a decision, she mustered up her courage and spoke. "Joe, I'm not going to try to tell you what to do with your life. I'm really not. And I understand that Stephanie hurt you terribly,"

"Mrs. Plum, I…" Joe started to interrupt.

"Please, Joe. Please. Give me one minute, and I'll be out of here. I'll leave and never say another word, I swear. Just please give me that minute, okay?"

Joe nodded without speaking.

"I understand that you're hurting. And I know that my daughter is hurting. And I just have to think it's such a waste. You don't have to answer me, Joseph, but please think about this: Are you happier right now, right this minute, or were you happier with Stephanie? No, don't answer me—it's just for you to think about."

"I brought this for you," Stephanie's mother handed him a large three ring binder. "They're copies of letters. Letters I got from Stephanie this year. I know they're private, and I know she never intended them for your eyes. But I also know that the both of you are miserable. And I want my daughter to be happy, Joe. I want you to be happy. Just read the letters and think about it, that's all I ask."

"Mrs. Plum, I don't think…" Once again, she interrupted him.

"Joe, please. Just read them. If you read them and still don't want anything to do with Stephanie, I'll respect that. You won't hear from me again, I promise." She rose quietly and kissed him gently on the cheek before letting herself back out into the cold, dark night. The door snicked closed behind her, and Joe was left alone.

He knew sleep wouldn't come that night, and part of him admitted he was starved for Stephanie, even the sight of her handwriting. He went to the kitchen, pulled out a Corona, then circled the coffee table a few times with its ticking time bomb of a binder sat squarely in the middle. Giving in to defeat, Joe pulled the binder to him and began to read.


	2. Chapter 2

April 28

Dear Mom,

I just wanted to let you know we're okay. I found a great sublet in Jamaica Plain, and if it's not Trenton, it's still nice. My place is small, but it'll be okay. I'm still living in boxes, of course, but I'm hoping to get settled in before my training classes start next week. I think forensic technician will be a good choice for me. Maybe I'll be able to exercise my penchant for solving crime puzzles without the garbage and the bullets and the bombs. Wouldn't that be nice?

Seriously, Mom. Don't worry about us. Peanut and I are going to be just fine. I know we talked about this before I left, but I can tell you're still worried. I've had a lot of time to think in the past few weeks, trying to figure out my life, and why I keep doing the same stupid things over and over. And yeah, I agree with you that it probably goes back to when I was sixteen. It's like in some ways I never grew out of being that moonstruck, Joe-struck kid. In my teenage head, I guess I built it up that Joe cared about me the same way I cared about him. Instead, he walked out on me without a backward glance and thanks to his literary attempts at the sub shop, I felt like there was some kind of sign around my neck that said, "Damaged Goods." I was so ashamed. I felt like I didn't deserve to be happy, so I made damn sure that I sabotaged myself to make sure I wasn't happy. Marrying Dickie Orr springs readily to mind, and so does messing around with Ranger and hurting Joe the way I did. My head got it that Joe had grown up, but somehow my heart was still stuck on him walking out on me. Sometimes I wonder if the whole bounty-hunting thing wasn't just another attempt at self-destruction.

I do know one thing. I know I have to get off this cycle of regret and blame. I can't go back and change anything my sixteen-year-old self did or didn't do, but I cannot, and I will not keep the past like an albatross around my neck. I have to grow up and leave it behind and make some decisions about my future. And my baby's future.

I know you worry about me raising this baby alone, and I'll be honest and tell you I get scared sometimes too. But I have to believe Peanut and I will be okay. No matter how much I screwed up my life, this is the one good thing to come out of it. I wake up in the morning and I just thank God that I have this little life, this little part of Joe growing inside of me. A part of him that will never hate me, never look at me with regret. I'm happy about the baby, Mom, and I hope you can be too.

Love, Stephanie

May 17

Dear Mom,

Things are going okay here. My training is demanding and difficult, and really painstaking, but it's interesting, and I think I'm learning a lot. I found a midwife that I like a lot. Not sure about the whole natural childbirth thing, but she seems willing to work with me on it. I'm enclosing the ultrasound we had taken this week. Still can't tell if Peanut is a girl or a boy, but the little hands and feet are absolutely beautiful. My "bump" is growing, and I can't fit in any of my clothes. Funny, I always thought I would hate that part of being pregnant—well, when I thought about being pregnant at all. Instead, I can't wait to see what's going to happen next.

Love, Stephanie

June 13

Dear Mom,

I'm sorry I don't have time to write as often as I'd like. And please don't stop sending me news from Trenton. I miss everyone so much. I go to classes with people here, but it's different than being home with my friends and family. I know I'll get used to it eventually, but it's hard. Please keep telling me Burg stories, as you call them. It makes me feel home.

And I know you've been purposely leaving Joe out of the things you tell me. Please don't. Good or bad, I need to hear. Sometimes I just ache with wanting to see his face. Since I can't, please tell me about him. Is he okay? Is he happy? Does he still have Bob? Do you see him?

Love, Stephanie

June 20

Dear Mom,

This one will be short, because I'm on my way out to class, and I have a bunch of projects due this week. Don't be angry with Joe, Mom, please. Please. It's not his fault. This was MY doing, not his. I know that he hates me, and I don't blame him. Please don't you blame him either. Joe is the finest man I know, Mom, and he deserves to be happy, he deserves a good life. I wish it could have been with me, but I made that impossible. You asked when I would get over him, but Mom I really don't think I ever will. I never have, after all. Joe is a part of me; sometimes I think the better part.

And right now a literal part of me. I didn't tell you the most exciting thing! I was taking a shower this morning, running the soap over my belly, and I guess I pushed too hard because Peanut pushed BACK! I've felt the baby move before, just little butterfly wings in my belly. But this morning I could see the little knees or elbows or something rippling under my skin. Wow. I've been walking around with a goofy grin on my face ever since.

Love, Stephanie

July 6

Dear Mom,

I can't wait to hear all about the 4th of July bash in the Burg. Please don't leave out any of the details. I wish I could have been there. Maybe someday, but I really can't see a time when I could go back to Trenton. It would just be too hard to see Joe every day, or worse, NOT see him. And he made it really plain he doesn't want to see me, so I'm trying to respect his wishes and stay away.

On a positive note, MaryLou drove up and spent the long weekend with me. Since I'm getting more ungainly, she helped me get the nursery painted and the furniture arranged. I know it's early, but I was impatient to get it done.

I found some paint that's a soft sage-y green that looks really nice. It's the same color as the background of the wallpaper in Joe's room. The wallpaper is old and I can't find anything like it any more, so I went for the color. I got some sheer white curtains to go over the window just like at Joe's. Some of my favorite memories are of that room, and I wanted the baby to have something like it.

The baby's window looks out over the backyard, with a big old Braintree extending it's branches almost to the window. It's beautiful, and I hope the baby will like it. MaryLou brought the cradle you sent, and it's perfect under the window. I found an old refinished rocker at a consignment shop last week, so things are starting to come together.

It was so good to have MaryLou here. We laughed and we cried, and I don't think we slept at all. We had to cram in so many things in such a short amount of time. She brought me some pregnant books, and some of her old maternity clothes since I've outgrown everything again. So much for looking forward to outgrowing my clothes, huh? Well, a pregnant woman's prerogative to change her mind and all that. I cried when I put them on. My boobs are huge, and I'm getting stretch marks over my enormous belly. If I had spandex, I swear I'd look like an albino Lula. I love the baby, but I hate the way I look. I think maybe it's just as well Joe can't see me like this. He'd run screaming from the room if he could see me now.

Sheesh. Sorry about the smudges. If MaryLou's books are right, maybe I'm just hormonal. All I know is I feel fat and ugly and lonely, and I cry all the time.

Love, Stephanie

July 21

Dear Mom,

It's a girl! Can you believe it? It's a girl! They did an ultrasound today, and the technician is 99 sure it's a girl. No exterior plumbing, as far as she could see. I have a daughter, how cool is that? I would love it if she had Joe's brown eyes. I'll write more later, but I'm going shopping. Girl clothes! Frilly pink things, and soft cuddly blankets, girly quilts and hairbows. Shoes! She's going to need shoes!

Love, Stephanie

August 5

Dear Mom,

It was so good to see you and Daddy and Grandma Mazur last week. I can't begin to tell you how much I've missed all of you. It meant so much to me that you guys would make the long drive up here to see me. I wish I'd had more time to spend with you, but I'm coming down to the homestretch on this training class.

I've got to make a decision this week about placement. I have to decide which departments I want to work for. Part of me thinks that staying here near Boston is a good idea. It's a nice place, and compared with some of the places like Colorado and Florida and Las Vegas, it's relatively close to Trenton. Part of me wants to come back to Trenton and just say, "Deal with it," to Joe. Yeah right—that could work. Me working for the Trenton PD in forensics and never crossing paths with one of their own detectives. Said detective, of course, wants nothing to do with me, except that I'll have this little problem of his baby. And see, that's the thing, Mom, when I start "fraying" into all these different parts—I don't ever, ever want this little girl to feel like she was a "problem". She deserves better than that.

But the logistics just won't go away. If I stay in Massachusetts, who will watch her while I work? I know there are theoretically plenty of good day care providers out there. I know that. But this is my daughter. And she'll be tiny and helpless. What if they don't pick her up when she cries? What if they don't pay enough attention to her? She can't even tell me.

And then I'm back to square one. I don't know what to do. Anyway, I have to go. I've got a big practical this morning, so I've got to get out of here. I just woke up early because it's so darn hot and somebody was using my bladder for a trampoline.

Love, Stephanie

August 27

Dear Mom,

Well, I decided you were right. I bit the bullet and accepted a job with Trenton PD starting in November. With the baby due right after Labor Day, I figured that would get me some time to recover from the birth, pack up everything here, and find a place in Trenton. Mom, I appreciate the offer to move in at home, but I really think that Peanut and I need to be on our own. It means the world to me that you're willing to watch her while I work, and that will help me out so much, both financially and emotionally. I know that she couldn't be in better hands than her grandmother's. It will still be hard to leave her to go to work, but knowing you're with her will make it a lot easier.

I still have no idea how to handle things with Joe. The idea that he'll remain oblivious to my presence or his daughter for the next twenty years is pretty unrealistic. He's been really clear that he doesn't want anything to do with me, so I'm trying to respect that. It still feels wrong on some level to move back onto his home turf, but I have to put the baby's needs first. She's more important than my squishy feelings or even Joe's desire to be left alone. When push comes to shove, and I have to choose between Joe's comfort level and the baby's well being, the baby wins.

Wow. I guess this mom-thing kind of sneaks up on you, doesn't it?

Love, Stephanie

September 7

Dear Mom,

I know I'll call you in a few minutes, but I wanted to try to write everything down, too, so I could remember all the details. I want to be able to tell Sofia Josette Plum the story of the day she was born.

Night before last, I woke up hot, sticky, cramping and miserable. I went in to take a shower and noticed blood. I panicked and called the hospital advice line, and they told me it sounded like I was in labor and had lost my mucous plug. I timed my contractions like they instructed, then called a cab about 3:30 for a ride to the hospital. The cabbie wasn't so happy when he took a look at my big belly and scary hair, but I was too far gone to care at that point. He started making noises about calling an ambulance, but I swear I felt my head do the Exorcist spin just like in divorce court with Dickie that time, and pretty soon the guy was cooperative. I think he just didn't want to see what else was in my repertoire. I just wanted to get to the hospital and the promised pain meds.

I know we talked about the whole natural childbirth thing, and I know what Valerie thinks about it. And after several hours of unmedicated labor I knew what I thought about it. I got to the hospital and did a few more head-spins, and eventually I was comfortably ensconced in a quiet room with soft music and more importantly, a tube in my back that made me blissfully numb from the waist down. Piece of cake.

Well, so I thought. Until my previously perfectly nice doctor, known after this as "Mr. Hyde", informed me that the lovely epidural I'd been enjoying was slowing down my labor. Frankly, I didn't see anything wrong with slowing things down. As long as I was comfortable, what difference did it make if the baby made a leisurely descent? Apparently, there's a time factor involved after you've lost your mucous plug or there's a risk of infection. What, these people never heard of penicillin? Apparently not. So they disconnected my liquid happiness, and things got ugly.

I'll be brief. After another four hours, they broke my water. Four hours after that, I was praying to die. Two hours after that I started to push. Two hours after that, they threatened me with a C-section. By then I was pissed. If they wanted to do a c-section, I didn't see why they couldn't have just left me hooked up to my epidural in the first damn place instead of making me endure a bunch of pain for the hell of it. I was beyond pissed. I can't remember all the things I said to the doctor, but at one point the nurse actually fainted. No way was I dealing with some guy wielding a knife anywhere near me after I'd called him Dr. Fucking Mengele and said he'd gotten his medical license from a Cracker Jacks box.

Probably it was a good thing Joe wasn't there.

Whew. I think I'm going to have to clean this up some before I tell it to Sofia.

So anyway, I felt this huge contraction, then I swear, I could feel something like my hips unhinging. It wasn't painful, just such a relief of pressure. I took advantage of the unhinging and pushed with everything I had. Sofia slid out into the doctor's hands. He set her on my belly, she opened her eyes and looked at me. I swear, Mom, it was like she could see into my soul. I've never felt anything that profound in my entire life. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the doctor, or the antiseptic hospital. Not my stupid screwed up life. For that one moment, my heart didn't even ache for Joe, because Sofia filled every single bit of it.

She's amazingly beautiful, Mom. I can't wait for you to see her. She has Joe's ears. These perfect, delicate, tip-tilted ears, and on the left side, there's a curl right behind her earlobe. It's perfect. Her fingernails are the tiniest pearls. The side of her neck feels like silk velvet. Her eyes are dark. They still have the newborn blue around the edges, but I can tell by looking they will turn the same bittersweet chocolate color of Joe's eyes.

She's perfect.

It's daylight now, and I know you'll be up. I'll call in a few minutes to tell you all about her.

Love, Stephanie

September 10

Dear Mom,

Sofia and I are home in Jamaica Plain. I'm so glad you and Dad and Grandma will be coming this weekend. I can't wait for you to meet your granddaughter. Sofia is amazing.

I was kind of sad this morning, leaving the hospital. All the other babies had flowers and balloons from the Daddies for their homecoming. And I felt bad for Sofia because she didn't. I mean, I know she's just a baby, and she doesn't know the difference. But eventually, she won't be a baby any more and she will know the difference.

I want to give her everything in the world, and I can't. I can't give her Joe. I wish like anything I could, but it's not going to happen. I thought about it for awhile, and figured the best I could do was the best I could do. I can only be the best Mom to her that I can. So as soon as we got home from the hospital, I loaded her car seat into my car and we went shopping. I bought balloons and flowers, and a small cake, and Sofia and I had a homecoming party.

I think I will have to practice this some, because I cried all the way through. Hopefully, by the time she is older I'll be able to do it without the crying.

I miss you guys. I wish you were here.

Love, Stephanie

September 28


	3. Chapter 3

November 1

I'm learning to work my schedule around Sofi. She's an early riser like Joe, and is happiest and therefore quietest in the early morning. Like it or not, that means I'm turning into a morning person. If I want to get things done, it all revolves around feedings and the dreaded 3:00 PM meltdown. I picked up the keys to our new home last night when I got in from the airport. Spending the morning dodging Dad and Grandma Mazur in the upstairs hallway as they jockeyed for the bathroom only renewed my conviction that I had been wise to get my own place from the get-go. I unlocked the door to our new digs at 7:30, and Sofi and I christened our new kitchen with Boston Creams from Tasty Pastry. Well, I had Boston Creams, and Sofi just mostly nursed while I ate one-handed sitting cross legged in my kitchen / dining nook. But still, my daughter and I had breakfast in our own new place in Trenton.

It wasn't fancy, but it suited us, I think. A small row house with a prodigious stoop and a nonexistent front yard. Small living room and combined kitchen and dinette downstairs, with two smallish bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. The backyard was small, but fenced, and full of light. The morning light washed through the kitchen windows, and into Sofi's bedroom on the backside of the house. My bedroom and the living room overlooked the street, but it was worth the tradeoff for Sofi. Most of the house is painted an inoffensive and uninspiring shade of off-white, except Sofi's room. My Dad had color matched the nursery in Boston, and painted Sofi's room as a surprise for me. Mom had run up some white sheers for the windows. Since the sheers were hanging in unnaturally straight folds, I had to assume that Mom was more nervous about our return to Trenton than she was letting on. Those new curtains had been meticulously ironed to within an inch of their lives.

My cell phone chirped from my waistband, and I licked the last of the Boston Cream from my fingers before answering.

Woo hoo, I was on a roll this morning. Could the movers come early? Yes, indeed, they could. I punched in Mom's number, then MaryLou's, calling in reinforcements in the battle of the boxes. I didn't have much stuff, and with luck we could be most of the way settled by nightfall. At the very least, I thanked God the movers weren't going to be treated to Sofi's 3:00 shriek-fest as they moved everything around.

Forty-five minutes later, I was firmly ensconced in the green nursery, with Sofi watching boggle-eyed as I tore through boxes like a madwoman. What the hell had happened to the screws that held her cradle together? Ah. Of course, I always put screws in a box labeled baby blankets. Don't want to risk those screws getting jostled around and maybe scratched, right? Unlike my favorite glass vase which had emerged naked and in pieces from a squashed box in the living room. Rolling my eyes at the males who had packed my Jamaica Heights apartment on the other end, I went about the business of getting Sofi's cradle put together. The movers had already deposited her chest of drawers and my rocker in the small space, and when you added cradle parts and boxes that seemed to multiply like rabbits every time I blinked my eyes, plus Sofi and her bouncy chair, I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

Two hours later, I had the cradle assembled, the last of Sofi's boxes unpacked and flattened, and a clear path to the rocking chair just as Sofi announced she was ready for lunch. Did I mention she has Joe's Italian temper in addition to his early morning tendencies? Sheesh, sometimes I think she can peel paint off the walls.

I have to admit, watching Valerie nurse Lisa all those months kind of left me a bit squeamish about breastfeeding. I mean, sometimes it was like Val had a third, child-shaped breast. I didn't see how she could stand it. Feeding Sofi, though, is very different. It's our quiet time to just sit down and rock and get acquainted. Granted, I do most of the talking still, but she's coming along. She has a knack for getting her point across, I'll give her that. And while she may have Joe's temper and his happy morning personality, she definitely has my appetite. This girl never wants to miss a meal, and she gets right down to business. Twenty minutes, half an hour tops, and she's full to the brim and ready for a nap; none of that constant grazing Lisa did.

Knowing I'd have at least two good hours before Sofi surfaced from her milk-induced coma, I went out into the hallway to check the progress of the rest of the house. My dad gave me a nod from my bedroom at the front of the house where he was wrangling the bed together. I headed on down the stairs to find my mother and MaryLou putting the finishing touches on my kitchen. Frankly, both of them cook a lot more than I do, so I was more than willing to let them take charge. I figured as long as I could find the peanut butter and the olives, I'd be in good shape. Mental head slap! Nursing mothers cannot subsist on peanut butter and olive sandwiches. I made a note to hit the grocery store during Sofi's afternoon nap while my mother was still here and buy good, wholesome mom-food. Milk, cheese, fruit, bagels. That kind of thing. In the meantime, I could shelve my books and try to shove the sofa around to someplace that didn't look stupid.

Miraculously, all went as planned, including the trip to the grocery store, and I was safely back at home with the door closed on everybody else before Siren Sofi went off at 3:00 on the dot. At first, the daily meltdowns from 3:00 until 5:00 had left me feeling completely overwhelmed and useless. As often as not, I was crying as hard as Sofi was by the end. I finally confessed to the Boston pediatrician that I was a complete failure as a mother and told her about Sofi's daily screamfest. Finding out that Sofi was just one of those kids who became easily over stimulated as the day wore on made me feel a whole lot better. When the doctor complimented me on picking up on Sofi's signals (I think people two states away were picking up Sofi's signals, if you know what I mean), I felt like I might actually be able to get the hang of this mom-thing after all.

On a roll, I went and did my mom thing, all the while trying to remember to keep the stimuli to a minimum. I changed her diaper, swaddled her close and held her next to my heart. She screamed anyway. I walked into the hallway and closed the door to my bedroom. With both doors shut and no light coming up the stairwell, the hallway was dark and quiet. Perfect. Sofi and I walked the hallway until I thought there would be grooves worn in the hardwood floor. She never actually settles and sleeps during these tirades, but if I can keep the stimuli to a minimum and stay calm, she settles for fractious instead of screaming meemy, and just cuddles up next to her mom. Some moms might use a treadmill to get back in shape after giving birth; me, I've just got Sofi.

Frustrating as the crying could get, I also knew from the doctor that it wouldn't last much longer. As Sofi's nerves matured, she'd be less apt to become over stimulated. And in the cold hard light of day, I also realize that Sofi is going to be my one shot at motherhood. If I don't relish every moment I have with her, I won't get another chance. I can't imagine ever hooking up with someone else, mostly because I can't imagine anyone else ever measuring up to Joe.

Damn. I'd gone almost all day without thinking his name. Oh, yeah. Well, except for the parts where Sofi is like Joe. Yeah.

I tiptoed out of Sofi's room, quietly shutting the door behind me. I was just starting to breathe regularly when the doorbell rang. Frantically looking at Sofi's closed door while simultaneously hurtling myself down the stairs into a room filled with half-unloaded boxes wasn't such a hot idea. "Damn, shit, hell!" I yelled as I flung open the door while hopping on one foot, holding my bruised food with the opposite hand.

"You okay, Cupcake?"

"Yeah." My mouth shaped the word, but no sound came out. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I was scared to death if I even blinked my eyes he would disappear like a soap bubble on a hot afternoon. I just stood there, one hand clutching the doorknob to hold me upright, staring into his face. I drank in the sight with every pore of my body. Same wavy hair, same beautiful chocolate eyes, the planes and curves of his face hadn't changed at all since my last dream of him.

He stepped over the threshold warily, and I managed to get enough neurons to fire in sequence to get the door shut behind him. I turned to say something, I have no idea what, but it seemed like words should be spoken so I was preparing to say some whether my brain was engaged or not. Just then Joe handed me a small bouquet of daisies, tied to a shiny mylar balloon that read, "Welcome home."

Everything I ever thought I loved about Joe Morelli hit me square in the chest like a sledgehammer. I was speechless as a single tear slid down my left cheek. I swear I could practically see my still-beating heart lying on the floor by Joe's feet where I had figuratively thrown it when the balloon and flowers materialized. His thumb brushed away my single tear, then his fingers continued up into my hairline, gently tangling themselves in the riot of curls. Soft as swans down, I felt his lips just barely brush mine, so faint I would have thought I imagined it except for the frisson of electricity that shot straight through me.

"I know we have a lot to talk about, " he began, "But for right now, I just want to feel you in my arms, okay?"

I started to nod, I really did. I was shell shocked, I guess, but the feel of his arms sliding around me galvanized me into action. With a primal moan, I launched myself into his arms, and we toppled over onto the floor. My hands were fisted in his hair, pulling, tugging, and in the meantime my mouth was flying over his face and neck: kissing his eyelids, sucking at the cords of his neck, biting and licking my way across the rasp of his 5:00 shadow. It was like I was trying to devour him with my mouth. Luckily, it took only a fraction of a moment for Joe's hunger to recognize and match my own. I wanted to slow down, I wanted to wait and savor this moment. What if he changed his mind and walked out on me again? What if this was the last time I would ever get to touch him? My brain was screaming at me to wait, but my body had its own agenda. In seconds, my ratty jeans lay torn into two jagged pieces, draped haphazardly across the railing of the stair, and I was frantically shoving Joe's boxers to his knees. We didn't wait for anything else, just a screaming, moaning cataclysm as he finally slid into me. "Joe," I moaned into his mouth as he rammed himself deep inside me. "Love you, Steph. Love you. Oh, God, I love you," with each thrust punctuated by another declaration. "Yes, Joe. Oh, yessssss."

It had been less than three minutes since the doorbell rang. Certainly no points for style or staying power for either of us, but definitely the most intense sexual experience of my life.

"Stephanie, I'm sorry…" Joe began, and he started to move away from me.

"No!" I tightened my arms more tightly around his neck, and locked my legs where they still wrapped around his waist. "I'm not. I'm not sorry. I'll never be sorry. I love you, Joe." I stroked my hands up his back to the back of his head, then turned his head to face me. "Please, Joe. Give me a chance. Give me the chance to show you how much I love you." By then tears were running in rivers down my face, but I didn't care. I didn't have any pride left. If Joe's sexual attraction to me was the only weapon I had left in my arsenal, I would use it without hesitation. "Please, Joe."

"Shhhhh…it's okay. It's okay, Cupcake. I'm not going anywhere. I'm just sorry I couldn't slow down. I wanted to make things good for you. I was going to take it real slow and just talk tonight, believe it or not." Joe's hands were running through my hair, gently massaging the tension out of my neck and shoulders as he spoke.

"If it was any better, I would be unconscious," I stated authoritatively.

"Cupcake, if that's the greeting I get coming in the door, I promise you right now I'll never be late coming home from work for the next sixty years," Joe chuckled.

"Promise?" I smiled. It was so easy to fall back into the familiar pattern of bantering with this man.

"Promise." No smiles this time. His face was deadly serious as he leaned forward and kissed me to within an inch of yet another orgasm.

My damn cell phone chose that very moment to start chirping insistently. Any shred of dignity I'd hoped to salvage was given up as a hopeless cause as I scrambled bare-assed through the heaps of boxes in the living room floor in search of my lost cell phone. I picked up one half of my shredded jeans and shook it out hopefully, only to have the chirping continue. Flinging the offending denim over my shoulder, I managed to catch Joe full in the face with the crotch of the jeans. "Shit!" I mumbled as I finally found the phone deep in the pocket of the OTHER half of the jeans. "Hello," I was out of breath, and hoped my caller would just figure that I'd been unloading boxes and lost the phone that way.

"Stephanie? It's your mother." Like I suddenly developed amnesia in the past two hours and would no longer recognize her voice. "Listen, I know you and Sofi need your privacy, but I'm sure you haven't been able to organize dinner with all you have to do. Why don't the two of you come have dinner with us? I even made pineapple upside down cake in honor of your homecoming."

"I hadn't even thought about dinner, Mom…" That was an understatement. I broke off as Joe came up behind me and deftly took the phone from my nerveless fingers.

"Hey, Ma, it's Joe. Listen, can we get a rain check on dinner? Yeah, that would be great. And thanks, Ma. For everything. See you soon."

"What was that all about?" So sue me. I'm curious to a fault. It's not like Joe doesn't know this.

Joe looked pained, then said, "I'll tell you all about it, but this is too much." He gestured at our half dressed state, both of us naked from the waist down in full view of the equally naked windows less than four feet from the sidewalk. "We'll talk, but we either need to get dressed if we're going to stay down here, or go upstairs and finish getting naked."

"My vote is for finish getting naked," I threw over my shoulder as I started up the stairs.

"God, I love you," Joe growled as he caught up with me. For good measure, he gave me a playful slap on my bare ass, then picked me up and carried me the rest of the way to the bedroom before dropping me unceremoniously in the middle of the bed and flopping down on top of me.

Mmmmm…Thank you MaryLou for making the bed. And Joe always was my favorite duvet. I began working the buttons on his shirt out of their buttonholes and swirling designs through his chest hair with my fingertips. I had missed the feel of him under my hands. Joe began working my t-shirt up my sides, and I tensed. How would he react to the inevitable changes that bearing Sofi had wrought on my body? My skin wasn't as taut as it used to be, and bore evidence of stretch marks where the baby had filled my belly. My breasts were beginning to swell with milk, and what would I do if they leaked? In the heated and frantic coupling downstairs, I hadn't had time to worry about whether or not Joe would still be turned on by my body, but I was managing to find plenty of time and plenty of worry now.

"I need to see you," he said thickly.

"What if you don't like what you see?" I tried to keep it light, but my voice was quavering. Let's face it, this was not how I would have chosen to face Joe for the first time in more than six months. My hair hadn't been cut in months, and had somehow come loose from the casual ponytail I had scraped it into at the crack of dawn this morning. Corkscrew curls were cascading everywhere. Probably I would find the elastic somewhere downstairs in the mayhem of our lovemaking. My face was bare of any makeup, I'd been working all day unpacking boxes and shifting furniture around, and I could see tell-tale round milk spots on my T-shirt where I had leaked while I was walking Sofi this afternoon.

His eyes never leaving my face, he slowly pulled my t-shirt up over my head, then reached around and unhooked the snap on my super-industrial nursing bra. I lowered my eyes and tried to look away, but his fingers angled my head back up to meet his eyes. "You will always be beautiful to me. Don't you know that yet?" His lips trailed gentle kisses over my face, down my neck and past my belly until he settled between my OMMIGOD!

Slow. Soft. Sweet. Serpentine? Hmmmm… How many "S" adjectives can I come up with to describe Joe? I smiled in my sleep. Smile. Sleep…

Sleep?

Frantically, my eyes popped open. It was full dark in my new bedroom, and I was asleep on top of the covers, as naked as the day I was born. Joe was nowhere to be seen. My God, had I gotten so desperate I had dreamed the entire sex-filled afternoon? I snapped on the bedside lamp and began searching for a clean shirt and a pair of panties so I could go check on Sofi. She should be awake by now.

Just as I was scrambling into a t-shirt, the doorknob turned, and Joe stood silhouetted in the doorway, Sofi cradled gently in his arms. "You're awake," he said, smiling over the top of his daughter's head. "I hated to wake you, but somebody was getting pretty insistent that it was dinner time. At least, I assume that's what she said. What she lacks in vocabulary she makes up for in volume, and I have to say her command of Italian hand gestures is outstanding."

I gave Joe a watery smile. "What can I say? She's her father's daughter."

Joe nodded solemnly at me, and I saw tears standing in his eyes. "Grazie per mia bella figlia, mia moglie."

"Sia felice, Joe."

"I am. I have everything I could ever want right here in these four walls." I nodded, then took our squirming and starving daughter from Joe's arms and settled her in to nurse. Any awkwardness faded quickly as Joe climbed into the bed behind me. He pulled me back against his chest, and cradled both Sofi and I in his arms as she suckled contentedly.

I leaned my head back against Joe's shoulder and sighed, just enjoying the moment. Eventually, my insatiable curiosity started to override the sex-induced high I was experiencing. "So what's up with you and my mother, anyway? You said we would talk, and I have to admit I'm completely confused by you being here. Happy, but confused. I expected fireworks and screaming matches, and pitched battles at best, maybe even bloodshed and mayhem at worst." I was attempting to make a lame joke, but Joe and I both knew I wasn't far off the mark.

"When you left, I was devastated." Joe's voice broke, and I wanted to curl up and hide from the obvious pain I had caused him. Involuntarily, I started to move away from him, but he pulled me back. "No. Whatever has to be said, I'm not letting go of you. Not ever again." I turned my face into his neck, and just breathed the scent of him in, letting my free hand trail up and hold the other side of his head. Joe was right. Whatever else happened here tonight, I didn't want to let go of Joe.

"I held on to the pain like a talisman. Sometimes it's all that kept me going. I had my pride, and you had wronged me. I was hurt, I was angry, and I closed myself off from everyone. Last night…" He broke off again, but I just held him tighter. "Last night, I was walking Bob before I went to bed, and when I turned the corner to go home, I thought I saw you sitting on my front porch. Your mom had a scarf over her hair, but sitting there in the light from the streetlamp, she looked like you. And I felt like my heart started beating for the first time in more than six months.

"As soon as she spoke, I knew it wasn't you. But I couldn't deny I still had feelings for you, not when my heart was jumping around in my chest like a deranged gorilla. So she came inside, and she asked me to read the letters you had sent her. From Boston."

I felt myself go rigid with shock. Those letters, I hadn't held anything back in those letters. My whole soul was there exposed and naked for Joe to see. I couldn't believe my mother had done this to me. Joe's arms tightened like steel bands around me as I started to struggle against him. Sofi started to fuss, and I realized my tension was transmitting to her like a beacon. I forced myself to relax my body, and resettled Sofi to nurse on the other side, but I couldn't bring myself to look at Joe.

"She told me that she knew I was hurting, but to ask myself I was happier with you or without you. Then she left. I stared at the letters for a long time because I was scared to death of what they would say. I didn't want to read that you'd gotten over us while I was still such a basket case, or that you'd gone off with Manoso and were living the good life. I finally just gave up and read them because not reading them was driving me crazy.

"And my heart just broke. That's it. It just broke wide open. And I realized I had a choice. I could go on nursing my anger and my hurt, and let it eat me alive, or I could try to do what you were doing. Acknowledge the parts of our past where I screwed up, and put the negative shit behind us.

"I figure it like this. We've spent most of our lives dancing around in each other's orbit. I liked the way you put that, because it's exactly what we've always done. We yell, we fight, we leave. We get back together, and repeat the same damn thing over and over again. Doing the same thing over and over got us to the same place over and over--in this case, unhappy and miserable. I realized I had a couple of choices. I could raise hell and scream and stomp that you had left me while carrying my baby, that you had been with Manoso, or whatever. Or I could put the past in the past and make a decision about what was really important.

"I choose us, Stephanie. You and me and Sofi, together. We've wasted enough of our lives spinning our wheels, I'm not willing to waste hers doing the same thing. I love you both with everything that I have in me, and I think you feel the same. Can we start, right now, this minute, to build a life together for the three of us? If you don't want to get married, I'm fine with that. If you want a three hour full liturgical matrimonial mass, I don't care. All I know is that in my heart, you will always be my wife from right now forward. Period. I will love you all the days of my life, whether we say the words in front of a priest or not."


	4. Chapter 4

I thought my heart would burst. Worse, I was afraid I would wake up. What the hell, if I was dreaming, I wanted it to be a dream that would keep me warm at night for years to come. "In front of the priest." I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth and tried to talk, and that was what came out. Joe looked at me like I was speaking Swahili.

"Not for us, for Sofi. I want to do everything right for her, Joe. What is the vow about becoming one flesh? We became one flesh and we made Sofi. She binds us together. But for her, I want it to be official. Is that okay?"

Joe nodded, then took a sleepy Sofi from me and held her close against his chest. She snuggled right in and sighed contentedly. "You knew," I said. He raised his eyebrows at me. "About the flowers and the balloons. You knew." Joe looked pleased with himself.

Slow smile, melted chocolate eyes. "Yeah, I knew." I leaned forward and kissed him lightly through my totally silly smile.

"You are such a Dad," I said teasingly. Joe's reaction wasn't what I expected. He looked like I had slapped him, and his eyes became haunted. "Joe? What did I say? I just meant that I love watching you with Sofi. It's so obvious that you love her, even from this first day…" I broke off, because I was somehow making things worse. Something was very wrong. "Joe?"

Joe wrapped Sofi tightly in his arms, and looked at her face as he began to speak. "I hope it's enough."

"Joe, if you're worried because of your Dad…"

"No. No, this one is all on me. Can't shift the blame off on the old man this time." Absently, Joe's fingers played over Sofi's back, and I sensed that he needed that physical connection with his daughter more than anything else right now. I moved over next to him, and laid my hand gently on his thigh.

"Tell me."

Joe nodded, but the silence stretched between us. After all the emotional upheaval of the day, I was content to wait while he gathered his thoughts. We had all night. If it came down to it, we had the rest of our lives. The thought warmed me, and we just sat in the silence, Sofi's quiet breathing as she slept in her father's arms the only sound in our cocoon.

"I never meant to hurt you, Steph." At my puzzled expression, he elaborated. "When we were kids. At the bakery." I nodded encouragement, but still couldn't figure out where this was coming from. "That afternoon, Terry Grizzoli called and asked me to come by and see her. By then I was getting ready to leave for the Navy, I knew I didn't love Terry, but it was kind of like our relationship was in its death throes, you know?" I nodded again. "So I went over there."

Joe stopped, and we just sat while he regathered his composure. "I went there, and she told me she had come from the doctor. She had been pregnant, and had an abortion that day. I knew what I was supposed to think. Her body, her choice. All that."

"But my baby."

"And you felt guilty?" I asked quietly.

"No," Joe shook his head. "I feel guilty because I didn't. All I could think was 'Thank God.' My own child, and all I could feel was relief because I could get free from Terry and maybe have a chance with the girl I really wanted. What kind of monster does that make me?"

"Not a monster, Joe. Just a kid. There wasn't anything you could have done anyway." I so desperately wanted to erase the pain and guilt from his face. "What did you do?"

"I walked six blocks to the Tasty Pastry and laid you down behind the counter."

Joe's eyes drilled into me. "I'd never felt anything like that in my life, and it scared the hell out of me. I ran because I knew, on some level, that my life would never be the same after that night. After you. I'm just sorry you got hurt in the process because I was a young punk who didn't know how to handle my own emotions."

"No regrets, Joe. Our past is part of what make us who we are. I can think of a lot of things I would do differently in my life," I forced him to maintain eye contact with me, and we both knew I was speaking of Ranger, as well as other, more trivial things. "But if redoing those things meant giving up what we have right now, right this minute, I would do every single thing exactly the same. It's worth it to have what we have now. What we have tonight, and for the rest of our lives. Okay?"

"Yeah."

Sofi woke a couple of times during the night to nurse, but the morning light found the three of us entangled in the middle of the bed. Sofi was splayed out across Joe's chest sound asleep, and my hair was cascading down his arm where I'd fallen asleep on his shoulder after Sofi's 3:00 AM feeding. I doubted the pediatrician would approve of our sleeping arrangements, but on a certain primal level, nothing had ever felt more right. I glanced up to see if Joe was awake yet, to find his eyes watching me. "Good morning," his voice was sleep rasped and warm as whisky on a cold night. "So what do you want to do today?"

Drawing in a deep breath, I sat up, realizing too late that I wasn't wearing anything. Joe grinned wolfishly. "Just enjoying the view," he laughed when I went to hit him with a pillow. I looked around the room at the half opened boxes, then back at Joe. "I want to go home."

Suddenly, it was just that easy. Without realizing it, I had probably started the journey the day I decided to come back to Trenton. Trenton was filled with the familiar memories of a lifetime, and Mrs. Mancusi's small house was nice, cozy even, but neither defined home for me. Home was a place with faded wallpaper in the bedroom and new linoleum in the kitchen. A million reminders of half a hundred places where Joe and I had been overcome with passion and made love. Maybe most importantly, the place where we had made Sofi. The place where Joe had swept the mantle clean in one fell swoop when I confessed to having sex with Ranger. After all the push-me, pull-you, all the will we, won't we, I just wanted to be back in the creaky old row house that Joe had inherited from his Aunt Rose. I ached with wanting for the memories, both good and bad, that bound us together and to that place.

"You sure?" The grin started to spread, lighting up Joe's entire face. I nodded and smiled my sappiest smile, unable to help myself.

Joe disentangled Sofi's fingers from his chest hair, wincing a time or two as she held on tenaciously. "Okay, then. Let's see what we can fit in the back of the Explorer, and I'll make some phone calls to see if I can round up a couple of guys with pickups to get the rest later."

While I nursed Sofi, I could hear Joe emptying Sofi's drawers with more enthusiasm than efficiency, and I laughed at all the time I had obviously wasted the day before making sure her clothes were carefully folded and stacked just so. I could hear Joe wrangling Sofi's cradle down the stairs, and quickly deposited Sofi in her bouncy seat and headed down to see if I could help him load the bulky bed. The door banged open, and I heard a distinct "Shit!" as Joe stumbled on the front stoop. I hurried to the door to see what had happened to find Joe sprawled on the sidewalk, overcome by an innocuous looking pizza box from Pino's and a six pack of Corona that was splattered all over the sidewalk. At my quizzical expression, Joe waggled his eyebrows and leered, "I knew I'd forgotten something, but you kinda took me by surprise last night Cupcake."

"The pizza and beer sat on the stoop all night?"

"Looks like."

"My mother is going to have a field day with this." I shook my head in resignation, closed the door and went back up the stairs to pack my makeup before Hurricane Joe shoved my best Elizabeth Arden into a garbage bag or something. I just finished sorting hair care products from makeup and perfume when Joe's face appeared beside mine in the bathroom mirror. "Speaking of mothers…."

Shit. No room to get around him and avoid this conversation. I was sure the ratfink had planned it that way. Cornered, I decided to brazen it out.

"So?" I put on my best Jersey girl attitude.

"So we need to go see my mother this morning, Stephanie."

Shit again. No Cupcake. He was serious about this. Just when things had been going so well. Inquisition by Angie Morelli was about as appealing as having my toenails pulled out with red-hot tongs.

"Stephanie, look at me." Like a kid, I shook my head and continued my careful examination of the mosaic tiles on the bathroom floor. "Stephanie."

Arms folded, head back, legs braced. Jersey through and through. Damned unfortunate I hadn't had enough time this morning to get my full battle makeup and big hair in order, but I could bluff with the best of them. "What?"

"I already told you I've made my choice. You and Sofi. My mother can either be a part of that, or not. Her choice. But I need to give her that shot. If she can't welcome my wife and my baby with an open heart, then she'll see a lot less of her son. It's her call. But she's my mother, Stephanie. She hasn't done anything to deserve hearing about a new granddaughter from the neighborhood gossip instead of her own son."

The tension stretched between us and I finally admitted defeat. "You were a lot easier to resist when you used to yell and wave your arms around."

"I never noticed you resisting." Damn that grin.

"Go put Sofi's car seat in the Explorer before I change my mind." What, exactly, does one wear for such an occasion? Let's see. I'd been in and out of her son's house and her son's bed any number of times. On again, off again doesn't begin to describe our tumultuous relationship. Then I had crowned the entire saga by being caught in the arms of another man, disappearing for more than half a year, and showing up on her doorstep and on her son's arm with an illegitimate granddaughter in tow.

Shoot me now.

I settled for the most Valerie-esque ensemble I could squeeze my post-baby body into. I had a long-sleeved knit crossover-shirt I could couple with a crinkled and floaty skirt. The skirt was long enough I didn't have to worry about flashing anybody if I had to wrangle Sofi while wearing it, and the crossover of the shirt allowed relatively easy access if Sofi got hungry. I remembered the v-neck of the t-shirt as being a lot more demure, but my burgeoning boobs had ideas of their own. The skirt at least was okay and didn't emphasize my still slightly slack belly. I grabbed Sofi's diaper bag, my keys and my cell phone and hit the front door at a near-run. Joe was just finished putting Sofi in her car seat, and looked rather shocked that he hadn't had to pry me out of the house with a crowbar. "Let's get this over with," I snarled.

Wisely, Joe didn't speak on the short drive to his mother's. In the meantime, my blood pressure was skyrocketing, and I was ready to launch myself into orbit any second. He pulled to a stop in front of the painfully pristine house and came around to open my door. He probably knew there was no way I was going to voluntarily get out of the SUV. He gently unbuckled Sofi, and tucked her firmly onto his shoulder. Wrapping his other arm snugly around my shoulder, he stopped right there in the middle of the street in front of God and everybody, including every gossip in the Burg, and kissed me senseless. His hands hadn't moved, being otherwise occupied, but his tongue more than made up for any lack. "You, me, and Sofi," he said quietly when he was finished and I was still reeling. "Nothing else matters. Okay?"

"Okay," I breathed. I would have walked through fire for him at that moment.

I'm sure he knew it. Ratfink.

Angie Morelli opened the storm door while we were still on the front walk. Her hands were cupped over her mouth as she hurried down the steps. Somehow, Joe and I were invisible, and Mrs. Morelli's entire being was focused on the small pink bundle on Joe's shoulder. Joe's face lit up like a candle in a dark room as he proudly announced, "Mom, there's someone I want you to meet." With that, Joe carefully turned a sleepy Sofi to face her grandmother. Her eyes opened and she stared solemnly around, finally fixating on her grandmother's face.

"Ohmigod," Mrs. Morelli breathed. Blindly, she reached for my hand and squeezed it. "Oh, Stephanie, she's beautiful."

"We think so," I managed weakly. Still, it's hard to be mad at somebody who recognizes the obvious superiority of your baby over more ordinary children.

"May I?" She asked me, gesturing toward Sofi.

"Sure."

Most of what Mrs. Morelli was saying washed over me in a haze as we went up the walk and into the house. She seemed more than willing to hold up the conversation with occasional input from Joe, and that suited me fine. She kept interspersing her small talk with exclamations of Sofi's stunning beauty and miraculous intellect, so it was all good. I began to relax slightly when the almost liturgical ritual of coffee cake and coffee was observed, once again on familiar Burg footing. As long as we kept the conversation on Sofi, I felt pretty comfortable. Angie was performing the age-old baby information intelligence gathering for later dispersal through the Burg grapevine. I will probably never know who alerted Joe's mother that I had moved back into town the day before with a baby in tow, or that her son had quickly found his way to my door last night. As the baby's grandmother, Burg pecking order demanded that she be the one to disperse the vital information about Sofi and our return, or there would be grievous, almost vicious repercussions. Since she was so genuinely and obviously enamored of Sofi, the rest of the Burg would follow her lead. Angie Morelli had put her stamp of approval on Sofi, and by coming to greet me outside her home and lead me into the house, she had publicly blessed my relationship with Joe. In the Burg, Angie Morelli was sacrosanct, and she had placed the three of us under the protection of her reputation. My mother would be relieved.

Frankly, so was I.

Lulled into a false sense of security by the familiar patois of baby information, I was taken by surprise by the tapping of Grandma Bella's cane behind my chair.

"So, Joseph, you bring the Whore of Babylon into this house?" How so much venom could emerge from such a small being was shocking to me. I half rose from my chair, my only thought of escaping out the door with Sofi in my arms. Joe was already on his feet, face red, fists clenched, and eyes hard as marble. He didn't speak so much as he spit out Italian phrases at a rate I had no hope of following. He and his grandmother stood no more than a foot between them, arms moving in an intricate dance, hard voices spitting and hurling epithets at each other with neither giving an inch.

Finally, Joe visibly calmed himself and switched back to English. "Stephanie is the wife of my heart, and will be my heart before God and the church as soon as we can arrange it with Father DiMarco. She is the mother of my child, and I will NOT have her treated with disrespect."

Grandma Bella tipped her head back and smiled a small smile. "Bravo, Joseph."

"Finally, you protect the woman you love. A woman needs to know she can depend on her man to protect her, defend her. Put her above all other women." At this the old crone cackled. "Even his own grandmother."

Grandma Bella turned to me and smiled. I looked her in the face and was shocked to see Joe's eyes. I'd never noticed Joe had his grandmother's eyes. Smiling, warm, chocolate colored eyes. She reached over and patted me on the cheek gently and said, "Now you know. Now you know you can count on my Joseph to always put you first. You are his heart, and he will stand with you at the gates of hell. A woman needs to know this about the man she marries, yes?"

"Yes," I spoke automatically.

The old lady chuckled again, made a few cooing noises at Sofi, and kissed her on top of her brown curls. She turned back to me, kissed me on the cheek and said, "The new one you're carrying is a fine boy. I know these things." Then she turned and walked out of the room.

I have no idea how we got out of the house and back into the Explorer. I was still kind of shocked, and Joe looked like his entire world had been turned upside down.

"I think I'm starting to like your grandmother," I ventured.

Joe stood on the brakes in the middle of the street, much to the consternation of the Jersey drivers around us. Being the peripatetic souls they were, they punctuated their displeasure with a litany of anatomically impossible suggestions and various obscene hand gestures.

"What the fuck was that?" he demanded.

I blinked at him like I had no idea what he was talking about.

"So a man is supposed to protect and defend his woman, while at the same time letting her take care of herself and be independent, is that about right?"

"Yep."

"If I live to be a hundred, I will never understand women."

"Probably not." I grinned. He shot me a disgusted look, and I just couldn't help it. I began to laugh. The more confused and angry he got, the harder I laughed. Poor Joe. Just when he thought he had it all figured out, Grandma Bella went and yanked the rug right out from under him. Since I prefer him slightly off balance, I thought I might need to cultivate a relationship with this woman, just to learn some pointers. She'd obviously had a lot more experience than I had pushing male Morelli buttons.


	5. Chapter 5

I was chuckling sporadically and Joe was still shooting me suspicious looks when he pulled the Explorer in front of Vinnie's bonds office. "Allright, Cupcake. I'll get the guys organized and pick you back up in about an hour."

"Okay." I made no move to get out of the Explorer. I just sat there, frozen in place. The 'what-if' chorus that started playing inside my head had quickly turned into an all-out metallica overload, complete with screaming riffs and crashing cymbals. In the middle of a Thursday morning in the middle of the street, how had I managed to wind up staring down the sights of a full-fledged panic attack? What if Joe changed his mind about us? What if he didn't come back? What if Connie and Lula wouldn't talk to me? What if Joe's sex-induced stupor wore off and he decided he could do better and find someone else who didn't have all my baggage?

Joe picked up my hand and pressed a deliberate kiss to each of my first three fingers. "Me, you and Sofi. Nothing else matters." Bolstered by his faith in me, I started to tear up, then settled for a soul-searing kiss goodbye. Hey, I had to make sure that any 'what-ifs' Joe might be having had been stupefied into silence by the unspoken promise of mind-bending sex too. No sense taking any chances. I opened the door of the Explorer and climbed out before I could change my mind—either about the 'what-ifs' or the mind-bending sex.

I unbuckled Sofi and gave Joe a little finger wave before turning to go inside the storefront for Vinnie's bail bonds office. "Hey," I said apprehensively as I walked in. Connie and Lula were two of my best friends, and I had been AWOL for more than six months. I hadn't called, I hadn't written, and I wasn't sure how well I was going to be received after such a long absence.

"Oh. My." Started Connie, as she slowly rose from behind her desk.

"GAWD!" The last came from Lula, as she launched herself across the room and engulfed me in a veritable mountain of chocolate brown skin shrink wrapped in bright green spandex. "Oh, my gawd, oh, my gawd," Lula just kept parroting the same thing. In the meantime, she had deftly relieved me of Sofi, and was rapidly unwrapping her to examine all her wrinkles and dimples, her fingers and toes, and the soft brown curls that adorned her head. Sofi stared unabashedly at this mocha and green stranger, and seemed fascinated by Lula's own bright orange curls. In the meantime, Connie squeaked inarticulately, and performed a bizarre if intricate dance around Lula in a futile attempt to get her own hands on Sofi. Lula was fast on her feet and surprisingly gentle with Sofi, but at the same time she wasn't about to relinquish her hold on the prize to Connie. Finally, Lula settled onto the center section of the old vinyl couch, which gave a loud "whoofing" noise in protest, and Connie practically sat on top of Lula, content for the moment to waggle Sofi's toes and run fingers over her tiny kneecaps. In Connie's defense, there wasn't any more of Sofi she could reach since Lula had taken command of my daughter.

"This is Sofia," I said lamely. "Sofi, this is Aunt Connie and Auntie Lula." Best to complete the introductions. Sofi may be just a baby, but she doesn't know that yet. In her mind, she's just a regular person stuck inside a small body.

Lula's eyes swept quickly from Sofi to me. "Start talking, girl," she ordered.

I shrugged helplessly, and said, "I don't know where to start. There's just been so much…and I only have an hour."

"Talk fast." Still the queens of double-teaming me for information. Sometimes the connection between Lula and Connie was scary. Like now.

"Okay." I took a deep breath and started in, all the while wondering how many details I could successfully leave out. Both sets of brown eyes were focused intently on me, and both women looked coiled tight enough to spring at the slightest provocation. Probably I would have to tell them everything, or they'd drag it out of me anyway. Less painful and time consuming in the long run to just get it over with. I shrugged.

"Okay, I found out I was pregnant a few weeks before I left last spring." They could both figure that out on their own. "I was upset. Sofi wasn't planned." They were starting to get impatient. Both of those things also went without saying. "I ran into Ranger behind the office and he could see I was upset." Now I had their attention. "He kind of hugged me to him and kissed me, and then Joe kind of caught us." Collective gasp, and Lula's hands instinctively went to cover Sofi's ears. "Yeah, it was bad. He looked like he'd been hit or something. I wanted to die. He stormed off, and I went after him. And we went six hands around." This part was still pretty raw, even after all these months. "And he told me to get out of his life. So I went."

"He sent you away when you were pregnant?" Connie was clearly horrified, and probably ready to call in reinforcements from the not-so-legal part of her family.

I shook my head. "I didn't tell him."

Lula did another close up examination of Sofi. "Girl, this child is the spitting image of Officer Hottie. What do you mean you didn't tell him?"

"I mean I didn't tell him. I had hurt him so much, and he was way past angry. I didn't blame him then and I don't blame him now. I mean, if the situations had been reversed and I'd caught him swapping spit with Terry Gilman, I would have done murder, you know?" I think Lula muttered something about justifiable homicide. Damn Skippy. I continued, "And I knew if I told him I was pregnant with his baby, he would have stood by me. But maybe he would have always wondered if she was his. And I don't think he would have ever loved me again. I just couldn't live with that. I would rather have him hate me than have him stay with me out of pity or obligation."

"So I left. I went to Boston. I got certified as a forensic technician, and I start working down at Trenton PD on Monday."

There. I tied everything up in a nice bow. Maybe they would just let it lie.

Yeah, right. And pigs might fly, too.

"And what about Officer Hottie?" No sign of flying pigs in Vinnie's office.

"And Officer Hottie is picking us up in about 45 minutes. We're finishing moving our stuff into his house today." I tried to put my best "and that's that" finish on the end of that sentence.

"Uh uh. No way can you stop there. What HAPPENED?" Connie was practically bouncing up and down, and I had reservations about whether or not the ratty old couch would survive.

"And my mother happened. She showed Joe some letters I sent her from Boston. I had talked about how much I still loved him, and how sorry I was that I'd hurt him. And my mother went to Joe's house Tuesday night after Sofi and I flew in and showed him my letters. The moving truck got here yesterday morning, and I started moving my stuff into Mrs. Mancusi's row house." Connie nodded in understanding. Connie knew Mrs. Mancusi. "And Joe rang the doorbell when he got off work at 5:00. And we worked things out." I was blushing furiously by this time, but didn't really want to give details of my sexual escapades with Joe, so I rushed on. "We're going to get married. The whole schmear, with a priest and everything. Dickie got an annulment when he was chasing one of his secretaries, so we don't have to wait for a clearance or anything."

Hah. Did I know my audience or what? The wedding distracted both of them to the point that they didn't ask any more questions about the reconciliation, thank God. After a few more minor comments, I didn't even have to contribute to the conversation any more. Lula and Connie were on a roll. Good thing Joe and I didn't want to wait to get married. Given enough time, Lula and Connie would have managed glass carriages and liveried footmen the likes of which even the Royals hadn't seen at their nuptials.

Eventually, I noticed that the incessant wedding chatter from Lula and Connie had abated, and a familiar warmth crept up the back of my neck.

Shit.

"Babe."

"Ranger." Good, we've identified ourselves, now hurry up and go away before Joe gets back and all hell breaks loose.

I can't lie. He still looked good, leaning up against the doorframe to Vinnie's office. Hell, he would probably still look good on his deathbed. And I finally realized in a moment of clarity that I would probably always find him attractive. There would always be men I would find attractive, and always be women that Joe was attracted to. That didn't change our commitment to each other unless we were stupid enough to throw away a deep and abiding love for a quick thrill. I'd been there and done that already, thanks, and the t-shirt had been relegated to my 'what was I thinking' drawer.

Lula stepped into the breach. "This here is Sofia, Ranger. She's about the prettiest baby I ever did see." Lula was always so much smarter than people gave her credit for. Insightful too.

Ranger held up a hand in the universal symbol for "stop". "I don't do babies," he said.

"Yeah, I remember." Oooh, did that just come out of my mouth? I realized it did at about the same time I remembered how Joe was always the guy down on the floor with the kids at his family's gatherings. How he listened with apparent attention at Mary Alice's antics about her life as a horse. And how he'd never complained once when Valerie's youngest, Lisa, used to puke all over him on a regular basis. Instead, he just gravitated toward Lisa and picked her up anyway. If he ever minded her ruining his shirts, he never indicated it by word or look. Joe does babies. Joe does babies in spades, thank you very much. I nuzzled Sofi's soft cheek and thought how lucky she was to have a Daddy that loved babies so much, and her in particular.

I held Sofi up, facing toward me to give me an excuse for not looking at Ranger after my snide comment. Just then, the bell over the door sounded and Sofi and I both turned to see Joe walk in. Sofi recovered before I did. She wind milled her arms and legs in a desperate attempt to swim through the open air to Joe's arms, then smiled a full toothless grin that crinkled her eyes when she realized she had his attention.

Ohmigod! "Her first smile! Oh, Joe, did you see?"

"I sure did! Did you save up that very first smile for your Daddy? Did you princess?" Joe responded to Sofi's frantically waving limbs by holding her extended over his head, then snuggled her back in close to his chest. Sofi grinned contentedly, her universe complete now that her Daddy was back.

I worried about Joe's reaction to Ranger's presence, but when I turned to look back by Vinnie's office door, Ranger had disappeared. Ranger was smoke.

Damn good thing.

Later, back at the house, I felt strung out and exhausted, but with a real sense of accomplishment too. I swear, Joe had managed to finagle just about every off-duty cop in Trenton and pressed them into working this afternoon. Mrs. Mancusi's row house was once again silent and empty, and Joe's house…No, wait. Our house still seemed to echo with the myriad footsteps and laughter that had punctuated the great moving caper. There were still some loose boxes hanging out in odd corners, but thanks to MaryLou, Connie, and Lula, most had been unpacked and the contents were at least contained and out of sight. Vinnie would be underwhelmed that his office had been abandoned all afternoon, but Connie and Lula were determined to be part of the action. This was the Burg, and the big happening today was the impending cohabitation of Stephanie Plum and Joe Morelli. Rank strangers were dropping off casseroles just to get a personal look in the door at the mayhem.

I shook my head and laid Sofi down on a nest of towels in the bathroom. She had settled down from her afternoon crying jag a few minutes before, and I wanted to give her a bath before we headed to my parents' house for dinner. I ran some water in the bathtub and laid out all the supplies I would need. Now came the hard part. Sofi always seemed convinced that water was the invention of the devil himself, and put up a fight every time she had a bath. Cool water, warm water, small tub or large, nothing seemed to make a difference. Steeling myself against the impending shrieks, I lowered her into the bath. True to form, Sofi began shrieking at the top of her not inconsiderable lungs. The next thing I knew, Joe came pounding up the stairs and threw open the bathroom door, obviously expecting to see someone carving his daughter into small pieces without benefit of anesthesia. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "She doesn't like baths," I bit out between clenched teeth. Next thing I knew, Joe had scooped Sofi out of the tub and deposited her in my arms. "Joe, she has to learn to take a bath. She just doesn't like the feel of the water or floating. She'll get used to it. She has to get clean."

While I was talking, Joe unceremoniously stripped. He lowered himself into the tub and peremptorily gestured for me to hand him Sofi. Okay, fine. I deposited her in the middle of his chest. She stopped shrieking, but started bitching. There's no other word for it. She wasn't crying, but she was letting us both know in no uncertain terms that she was not happy. Joe turned the water back on to deepen the level in the tub. "I know," he told Sofi. "I understand."

"Well, I'm sure you were worried, but Momma wouldn't let you drown in the tub. No, she wouldn't." Sofi was calmer, but still griping, looking right at Joe with him looking back as if he understood every vocalization she made. "You don't have to be scared. Daddy will hold you while Momma gives you your bath." At that, Sofi subsided, fingers tangled in Joe's chest hair, and her thumb popped into her mouth.

Shaking my head in amazement, I quickly washed a quiescent Sofi, soaping and rinsing her as she splayed herself across Joe's chest. Sofi quickly got the idea of smacking her hands on Joe's pectoral muscles and making splashes. She would grin in delight every time she managed to spray water droplets. I don't know who was enjoying the new game more, Joe, Sofi, or me. My heart just melted watching the two of them together. The steam rose gently around us, cocooning us in a soft cloud, the smell of baby wash overlaying everything. While Joe and Sofi played, I absently picked up the washcloth and added more baby wash. Gently, I began soaping Joe's feet and ankles, working my way up the length of his legs slowly. I moved on to his hands and arms, enjoying the feel of his skin slipping under my fingers. "Mmmm, this is nice," he rumbled.

Not saying anything, I moved behind him and began working my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. I slowly poured a cup of water through his hair, added some shampoo and began washing his hair.

"You're quiet. What are you thinking about?"

Without thinking, I answered. "Ranger."

I felt him tense, but kept working my fingers in circles on his scalp. "I was thinking how sad it is that he's held himself apart from Julie all these years. How sad it is for him, but mostly how sad it must be for her. I watch you with Sofi. And I remember how my Dad was always there for me. He never said a lot, but I knew I could count on him. I think it must be really hard for a girl not to have that." I leaned down and kissed him full on the mouth. "I'm so glad I have you Joe. And I'm so glad Sofi has you. You make me happy, you know."

"You make me happy, too, Cupcake."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, come on I'll show you."

"Joe, we'll be late. My mother's expecting us for dinner. Joe, you're getting water all over the floor! Joe! Ommigod…."

Well, we were only a little bit late for dinner. I bolted out of the car, and quickly checked to make sure my underpants were back on right. Shit. No underwear. "Sex fiend!" I hissed at Joe as we hurtled up the walk.

"I aim to please," he smirked.

Grandma Mazur opened the door to our knock, and let us in. We made a beeline for the table, and the pork roast was passed as soon as we hit the chairs.

Grandma Mazur piped up, "So Joe. Mabel Markowitz said she saw your ding-a-ling in Mrs. Mancusi's front window last night. She said it was a doozy."

"Did she?" choked Joe.

"Grandma, you tell Mrs. Markowitz she better not get any ideas about Joe's ding-a-ling! I'm not sharing." Joe mumbled something that sounded like 'Thank you God,' and my mother crossed herself while looking longingly toward the unseen kitchen pantry, where I'm sure her latest bottle of scotch was enticingly calling her name. Grandma Mazur cackled happily, pleased beyond belief to have forced a reaction from everyone but my father and Sofi. I winked at her across the table. Grandma Mazur didn't just break the ice, she shattered it to smithereens.

"So," said my mother determinedly. "You look good. Happy, I mean."

Joe reached over and took my mother's hand. He pressed a small kiss on the ends of her fingers and quietly said, "Thanks, Ma." I shook my head at the famous Morelli charm. My mother looked like she was about to ooze off her chair and turn into a big puddle of goo right there in the middle of the dining room floor.

"Aren't you the one," said my mother, clearly flustered, but equally obviously pleased.

"So she tells me." With the wolfish grin AND the eyebrow waggle, no less. Smartass. Firmly fixing the image of Grandma Bella in my mind, I went for the edge of the rug.

"Mom, I was wondering if you could watch Sofi for awhile tomorrow? I need to go buy a wedding dress." I smiled beatifically at my 'intended', who still had his fork halfway suspended to his mouth. "Oh, didn't I tell you, honey? Father DiMarco called back while you and Mooch were picking up that last load of furniture from Mrs. Mancusi's. We're all set for two weeks from Saturday."

Joe cleared his throat. "Why, no, Sweetie, you forgot to mention it."

"Did I?" Butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. "I guess I just got…distracted."

"Distracted. That's one word for it." Damn. Joe's gaze was practically molten as he raked his eyes slowly from the top of my head to the bottom of my stiletto heels, and every single inch in between. Joe lazily leaned over and plucked a grape off the fruit platter in the middle of the table. By the time he had slowly bitten it in half, then licked the juice off his fingers before finally devouring the thing in one suggestive bite, I was perspiring in really inconvenient places.

"Two weeks," I murmured lamely. Two weeks until all that hot-blooded Italian libido was officially mine all mine. Lock, stock, and one hell of a hefty, smoking barrel. Oh God. Another shot straight to my doo-dah.

"Two weeks," Joe agreed. "You name the time and the place, Cupcake, and wild horses couldn't keep me away." Wild horses. Italian stallion. Ohmigod. Stephanie, get a grip, here! My grandmother and my parents were still sitting at the table! After one more wolfish grin, Joe took pity on me and turned back to his dinner. "So what's the plan?"

Frantically searching for my scattered thoughts, I stammered, "Well, yes. Father DiMarco. Ummm…" Joe laid a steadying hand over mine. Granted, the man's hands were just as sexy as the rest of him, but I made a concerted effort to pull myself together.

My mother, in the meantime, was fluttering and flustered. Thankfully, the phrase 'two weeks' had acted like the gun at the start of a horserace and she was off and running, completely oblivious to the sexual by-play between Joe and I. I think. I hope.

"Two weeks! There's no way we can find a hall in two weeks! There will be no time to get invitations ordered, and what about the cars, and the bridesmaids dresses…"

"Mom. Two weeks. I'm not waiting any longer. It will be fine. No bridesmaids dresses, no cars." No dolls ON the stupid cars. "I talked to Father DiMarco about it. We'll have a simple Catholic matrimonial mass on Saturday morning; I reserved the banquet room at Rossini's for a nice lunch for the immediate family afterward. Saturday afternoon we'll have Sofi christened. That night we'll have a big open house to celebrate everything. No hall, no limousines, no band. Just a nice simple wedding with our families and close friends."

I could see my mother still wanted to argue. "Mom, you wanted me married. I'm more than happy to oblige, but this is the way that I want it." I leaned over and kissed Joe's temple, still amazed at how my life could change in just a few days.

Joe spoke up, "I've always thought it was the marriage that mattered more than the wedding. Whatever Stephanie wants is okay with me. I'm just happy she agreed to become my wife." And with that, Joe acknowledged my mother's part in our reconciliation with a small nod. She became teary eyed and told us how happy she was for us. She became downright loquacious, and I began to wonder just how much of that bottle was left in the pantry.

I tuned back in to my mother's litany. "…wedding cake of course. And flowers. You'll want a nice bouquet. White lilies, maybe?" she looked at me questioningly.

"No white lilies." Joe's adamant response surprised me. I had always loved white lilies; in fact, I'd decked the entire church in white lilies when I'd married Dickie Orr.

"Why not?"

"You had white lilies when you married Dickie." Well, duh, I knew that.

But how did he know that?

"How would you know? You were in the navy when I married Dickie."

"Technically, I was AWOL." A red flush began to creep up the hard planes of Joe's cheekbones. "I had heard you were getting married, and I guess I had some idea of coming in and stopping you and taking you away with me like that guy in the movies." He chuckled self-consciously. "I even came in on a Harley."

"I never saw you."

"I stood at the back of the church. Watched you walk down the aisle. Those damn lilies were everywhere. You looked so happy, I just couldn't do it. More than I wanted you with me, I wanted you to be happy. So I turned around and rode away. Went on a two-week bender, and didn't come back to Trenton for a long time." Joe shrugged, as if all this meant nothing, but I had learned to read my future husband. He was wearing his heart out on his sleeve, and worried about getting it stepped on.

"That look you saw wasn't happy, Joe, that was petrified." I leaned toward him and laid my head on his shoulder. "And I would have gone with you. With or without the Harley."

"Me, too," sighed Grandma Mazur.

"Yeah," breathed my mother.

"Jeez," said my Dad as he stomped off to the living room and snapped on the television.


	6. Chapter 6

"Cupcake, I gotta go to work." I pried open one eyeball and tried to focus on the words coming out of Joe's mouth. It was early, give me that, and I'd stayed up late the night before. I had to make sure Joe knew how incredibly romantic his Harley crashing wedding idea had been. I thought of the look on Dickie Orr's face if Joe had actually ridden his motorcycle up the church aisle. If anything, that would have been more priceless than the look on his face when I'd caught him doing the horizontal mambo with that sleazeball Joyce Barnhardt on my dining room table. Dickie hated Joe with a passion, God knows why, and I chuckled at what his reaction would be once he got word of my upcoming wedding to Joe.

Joe handed off Sofi to me. "She's got a clean backside, but I'm afraid breakfast is on you. I already walked Bob and threw some granola in Rex's dish. I took a personal day yesterday, so I've got to get caught up on some paperwork today. If I'm lucky, I can get done early, and maybe we can get out of town for the weekend. Kind of like a pre-honeymoon before your job starts on Monday. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect. I'll get my errands knocked out early and Sofi and I will be ready to go when you are. See you later this afternoon, okay?"

I nursed Sofi, then grabbed a shower while she slept. After throwing some lingerie in an overnight bag and quickly replenishing Sofi's diaper bag, I went to the kitchen phone to call my Dad for a ride. I'd have to see about getting another car since I'd sold the Cooper before we left Boston. I found a note in familiar handwriting taped to the phone, along with Joe's Explorer keys. "Caught a ride to work with Costanza. Will call you to pick me up when I'm through. Love, Joe."

Sofi and I motored to my parents' house, where I left Sofi curled up on "Poppa's" lap, watching some inane game show with boggle eyes. My mother was happily stacking up diapers on the dining room table and bottles in the refrigerator, and working out schedules for feeding and changing. I figured Sofi would let her grandparents know when she was unhappy since she wasn't a particularly shy child, and determined to let my mom spin her wheels and not worry about it.

I pulled up at Tina's Bridal Boutique at the dot of the 10:00 opening, and send up a silent prayer that there would be something in my size that wasn't covered in layers of ruffles that would make me look and feel ridiculous. An hour later, I was surrounded by poufs of organza and mountains of crinoline petticoats, and had all but given up hope. Tina's selection seemed to run to voluminous confections that were straight out of a Gone With the Wind remake or slinky, sleazy numbers that would have probably looked okay on a dance floor doing some kind of shimmy / salsa number, but would have likely sent Father DiMarco into cardiac arrest.

"This one was ordered last spring, but the bride cancelled. I could let you have it for a good price." Great, Tina had to resort to the dregs of the bridal attire pile. I was trying to come up with a good exit line and go try my luck at Macy's when Tina stepped back into the dressing room, and I realized it was THE dress. A low scooped neck, with tiny cap sleeves and a skirt that fell in a simple A-line from just below the bust all the way to the floor, in an elegant watered silk. What made the dress, though, was the white tulle overgown, studded with seed pearls and glass beads in airy, almost transparent designs. Elegant, deceptively simple, and so delicate it looked like it had been sewn together by fairies. I wanted that dress in the worst way. I would drop 20 pounds in two weeks. Hell, I would have plastic surgery, but I would marry Joe wearing that dress if it was the last thing I did. "Yessssss," I breathed. Tina smiled knowingly. She was closing in for the sale.

The dress needed some minor adjustment in the shoulder, but it was truly magnificent, and exactly what I wanted. And completely unlike the multi-layered extravaganza I had worn to my wedding to Dickie, complete with train and acres of lace. Nobody else might care about that, but I knew it wouldn't be lost on Joe.

I made quick work of ordering a cake from the Tasty Pastry; not difficult since I'd worked there in my younger and more virginal years, and knew exactly what I wanted. Flowers, refreshments, wine. Sheesh. My list just kept growing. So much for simple. At least Sofi's christening would be relatively easy since we already had Joe's christening gown in a box in the bedroom closet. Godparents. Another thing on the list. Take a breath, Stephanie.

Okay, time to regroup. Got the bride, the groom, and the daughter. Clothes for all of the above taken care of since Tina had managed to pull off the impossible this morning and produce my dream gown. Cake taken care of thanks to my old boss at Tasty Pastry. Screw it. I'd call Sally Sweet when I got off work on Monday and dump the whole thing on him. Checking my watch, I decided I'd have just enough time to pick up Sofi then go see if I could talk Joe into lunch at Pino's. No Pino's for more than six months had given me serious withdrawals.

Lunch at Pino's took considerably longer than I'd anticipated. A constant stream of cops flowed through the doors at Pino's, and it seemed like all of them stopped by the table to say hello to me and meet Sofi. Joe was in his element, introducing his daughter to every person who came within earshot. It's funny, sometimes Joe can seem so polished, and other times he is pure Jersey. Today he was Jersey through and through. "Daughter" sounded like "daw-tuh", and I expected him to start channeling the Sopranos at any moment. My old friends Carl Costanza and Big Dog greeted me with enthusiasm. So did quite a few others. Some of the female employees of the department gave a considerably cooler reception to my recent return, and I could readily surmise which females had started to move in on Joe in my absence. Since he kept me close by his side and Sofi constantly in the crook of his arm during our extended lunch, and talked volubly and incessantly about our upcoming wedding and Sofi's christening, I decided to just smile sweetly and let those women choke on it.

I was doing real well with the 'let them choke' attitude until Terry Gilman waltzed in and started cooing at both my daughter and my future husband. Taking matters into my own hands, I slid one palm slowly up the inside of Joe's thigh. "I hate to be a spoilsport," I whispered so he'd have to lean his head toward me intimately. "But I can't wait to get you alone." I ran my fingertip lightly over the outside edge of his ear in the way I know drives him wild, then licked my lips in open invitation. "Do you think we could leave soon?"

Joe threw some bills on the table, grabbed Sofi and headed for the door, leaving Terry cooing at thin air. I gave Terry a little finger wave as I slid out of the booth and followed Joe to the Explorer.

Winter at the Jersey shore is stark and elemental. No summer sun and umbrella drinks soften the expanses of gray sand and crashing waves. No background music from the boardwalk and the roaring crowds to distract from the howl of the wind over the rock-lined shore. When the sun came out, we bundled up Sofi and walked along the water's edge, enjoying the cold breeze in our windswept faces. More often, when the rain began to spatter and the wind began to blow, the three of us holed up in our solitary cabin and began to learn the rhythms and details of becoming a family. I would sit at the tiny kitchen table and nurse Sofi while Joe cooked. Sofi quickly became accustomed to bathtime with Daddy. Joe and I talked late into the night curled in front of the stone fireplace, Sofi sleeping soundly on a blanket nearby. Safely cocooned from the outside world, Joe and I talked about our hopes and our dreams, our regrets about the past, and our goals for the future. We shared silly secrets, deep philosophies, and everything in between.

Sunday afternoon arrived all too soon, with its return to the real world. At the same time, I was excited and anxious to start my new job tomorrow. Plus, I wasn't entirely sure I would be able to walk if we spent another day at the shore, wearing out the mattress in the master bedroom. And the rug in front of the fireplace. And the kitchen counter. And the sofa. Well, come to think of it, I wasn't sure exactly how working in close proximity to Joe was going to operate, what with there being so many horizontal surfaces at the police station, but I guessed we would figure it out as we went along.

I wondered if Joe's office had a lock on the door.

It's a good thing Joe and Sofi are morning people, because I definitely take awhile to get functioning. Joe has taken to waking me up in the morning with a cup of fresh coffee on the nightstand and a freshly diapered and dressed Sofi delivered to my arms. I can get my caffeine infusion while she nurses, and I'm at least moderately more ready to meet the day by the time Joe has finished in the shower and Sofi has finished nursing. By the time I'm dressed and downstairs, Bob and Rex are set for the day, and Joe is ready to wrangle Sofi into her carseat.

I've grown so accustomed to the sight of my mother and grandmother in identical poses to greet me at my parents' front door that I was momentarily taken aback on Monday morning. Instead of my mother or Grandma Mazur, my father was impatiently waiting for our arrival. He quickly whisked Sofi away, then stuck his head in my window. "I got a carseat for the cab. I figured Sofi could go learn Pinochle." He raised his eyebrows with me in an unspoken request for permission. "Sure, Dad. I'm sure Sofi would love to play Pinochle." What Sofi would love would be the complete male attention of a dozen of my father's closest cronies centered entirely on her. "Okay, then. See you later."

Remembering my mother's painfully precise stack of diapers from the other evening, it was at least comforting to know that the worst Sofi might suffer this first day away from her Momma was overmaintenance. Pinochle. I just rolled my eyes.

"Pinochle?" asked Joe, incredulously.

"Don't ask. Must be a guy thing." Joe nodded sagely. Yeah.

Joe walked me to my desk when we arrived at the station, and introduced me to some of the other technicians I would be working with. The faces were all a blur at first, but I figured I would get them sorted out soon enough. Joe took off for his own office, my breast pump in tow. Forget Victoria's Secret—it took a real man to unblushingly haul around a clearly marked Medela breast pump through the Trenton police station.

At least now I knew for sure there was a lock on his office door.

I had figured that the first week or so of the new job would entail learning the idiosyncrasies of cataloging and keeping records on processes that had, up until now, been entirely theoretical instead of practical. I wasn't disappointed, exactly, but I would certainly find the work more fulfilling when I'd be able to move onto actually utilizing my new skills instead of just learning the paperwork procedures. Joe was out of his office during my morning break, and I was able to relax and use the breast pump without interruption. He was still gone at lunchtime, so I made a point of joining some of my new coworkers at the corner deli. The skinny, quirky guy was Mike Franconi. Another quiet studious woman about my age was Maggie Layne, and an older woman with salt and pepper hair and plenty of laugh lines in her plump face was Sheryl Finocchi. Sheryl apparently never met a stranger and kept up a running conversation throughout the day, and over lunch. I had learned that Maggie didn't say a lot. Neither did Mike, but when he did offer a comment, it was usually pretty funny. There were several other people in the department, but most of them were field personnel. The four of us constituted the lab section of the forensics department for Trenton PD. Mike and Sheryl had been there quite awhile, but Maggie had only transferred in from Newark about six months previously. I was the only rank beginner, but everybody was happy to show me the ropes, without talking down to me at all.

I'd had several visitors during my first day; old friends stopping in to make sure I was comfortable. There seemed to be a pretty good relationship between the street cops and the lab guys, which was a relief. I knew from talking to some of my teachers this wasn't always the case. One of the things stressed during my training was that one of our major jobs was to keep the street cops working the street instead of feeling like they had to babysit their evidence. We had to be able to trust them to collect things accurately, and they had to be able to trust us to process everything correctly, with no second-guessing on either side. It could prove a precarious political balancing act in some jurisdictions, and I was hoping that my previous relationships with a lot of the beat cops would smooth the way for our new professional relationship.

I managed to catch Joe during my afternoon nursing break, and I was hard-pressed to make it back to my desk on time since the sight of bare breasts in his own office was apparently more temptation than he was able to withstand. The old sofa was comfortable, and at least it didn't squeak.

The rest of the afternoon passed with me highlighting various procedural differences I was unfamiliar with, and trying to become acquainted with the flow of paperwork through the department. Joe interrupted me at a few minutes past five, and we called it a day. We chatted amiably on the way to my parents'; mostly about the crime scene he'd been called to this morning. We didn't know whether I would be called on to process anything on this particular case yet, but it was just nice to be able to discuss the details without worrying about confidentiality. I asked him a few questions about what had and had not been collected, and gave him a rough estimate on return times for some of the tests that would need to be run.

We picked up Sofi, and dodged my mother's dinner invitation. Joe had called Pino's for takeout before we left the station, and the smell of garlic and marinara permeated the inside of the Explorer. There were some fine Italian restaurants in Boston's North End, but none could hold a candle to Pino's.

Joe took Bob out and set the table while I nursed Sofi and got her to sleep. We enjoyed our Pino's, then settled in on the couch for Monday Night Football. Joe was wearing a t-shirt and the bottoms to his sweats, while I had co-opted the matching sweatshirt and had pulled my knees up under the front edge while we draped ourselves over and around each other on the sofa cushions. I looked over at Joe during one of the commercials and said, "I don't know why this scared me so much." Joe just gave me a quizzical look. I knew his mind was still on the impending first down, but I tried anyway. "This. Just being here. I always worried it would feel boring, but it just feels good. Does it feel boring to you?"

"Feels like home to me, Cupcake."

I leaned over and kissed him lightly, just as a thin wail sounded down the stairs. Joe started to get up, but I pulled him back down. "I'll get her. You watch your game."

Sofi was bright eyed and not particularly hungry. "Hey, Princess," said Joe, as he reached for her. As usual, her entire face lit up at the sight of her Daddy.

"Don't tell Poppa, but I think Sofi is more of a football with Daddy girl than a Pinochle with Poppa girl." I said.

"We just won't tell Poppa, then, will we Sofi?" Joe asked conspirationally. Sofi agreed to keep the secret, and the two of them snuggled up to watch the game. I took advantage of the quiet to go place a strategic phone call to Sally Sweet. It took longer than I anticipated, given that Sally wanted the whole sordid story, and had a penchant for interrupting with "Fuck me!" every ten seconds. Eventually, though, Sally pronounced our plans "fucking amazing" and agreed to pull together the details of our combined wedding, christening and open house in less than two weeks. I remembered at the last minute to remind Sally of Joe's aversion to white lilies, which took even more explaining. By the time I'd finished that, Sally was sniffling and muttering something about the course of true fucking love, and I was finally able to get off the phone.

I wondered if it would be easier to buy earplugs for Sofi or a muzzle for Sally.

The rest of the week passed with the same rhythm, except on Wednesday when Joe asked me if I was up to going out of town on Saturday. Some old Navy buddies were getting together in Newark, and he really wanted to go. It's funny. I've known Joe my whole life, and lived around his friends and family just as long. I don't ever recall meeting one of Joe's friends that wasn't from the Burg. I could see it meant a lot to Joe, and honestly, I was intrigued at the idea of seeing another side to my almost-husband.

Sofi dropped off to sleep as soon as the Explorer tires hit the constant drone of the highway toward Newark on Saturday morning. We were only modestly late getting on the road, since I was learning to allow extra time for getting Sofi ready to go, as well as extra time for Joe's morning libido. It meant an earlier than usual start to the day, but at least we started the day loose-limbed and happy. I turned around in my seat and adjusted Sofi's headrest one last time to ensure she would stay well and truly asleep for the relatively short trip to Newark, then turned back to Joe.

I wondered if I would ever get to the point where I got tired of looking at him. I'd had him woman superior in the slanting winter morning light less than an hour ago, with a screaming orgasm quickly following, and here I was enthralled with the easy way his hands held the steering wheel, and the glint of light through his almost-black hair. I shifted in my seat, and gave him what I hoped was my best "well and truly fucked" look. Joe did a double take, and I was gratified to notice he swerved slightly. "Probably a rest area in the middle of the day would get us arrested, Cupcake."

I laughed and reached for the hand that wasn't steering. So much had changed in my life in less than two weeks. One of the major bonuses was being able to touch Joe whenever I wanted to. I had missed the feel of his body so much during our months apart. "So tell me about your friends," I invited.

"Let's see. There were five of us that went through basic together, and our friendship just kind of stuck. Tyrone, Tex, Remy, Bobby and me. We're going to Tex and Allie's house. They married and had Lexy their last year of high school, and Tex joined the Navy the day they graduated. They needed a way to take care of Lexy, and I guess there wasn't a lot of opportunity in the little town in west Texas where they were from." Joe shrugged. "Tex is an electrician now, and owns his own business. They settled in Newark when his last tour was up, and have been there ever since. I get to see more of them than anybody else."

"Tyrone married LaDawna about five years ago, and they have five year old twin boys. They live up in Narragansett. Tyrone runs his own fishing boat there. It's hard for him to get away on the weekends, but it's easier in the winter than it is in the summer."

"Remy's just Remy. Louisiana Creole with an accent that drives the women wild. Black hair, blue eyes, falls in and out of love like a teenage girl. Best backup in a bar fight I ever had."

"And Bobby?" I asked.

Shadows crossed Joe's face, but they were old shadows, like the ghostly ache of an amputee's missing limb. "Bobby went career. You remember that ship that was hit by a terrorist's boat a few years ago in the Persian Gulf?" I nodded. "Bobby was off watch, and sleeping about 20 feet away from where the boat hit."

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling inadequate.

"Me, too," said Joe. "Bobby was good people."

"Anyway," said Joe, visibly shaking off any sad thoughts, "The five of us were always tight, and we'd get together whenever we could. That's always been Tex and Allie's, in the beginning because Lexy was tiny. She must be fourteen by now, and when I first met her she wasn't much bigger than Sofi back there. She's a great kid, Steph."

"It's funny—I worried about the married part sometimes, but I never worried about wanting kids. Probably watching Lexy all those years with Tex and Allie. They didn't think about it, they just did it. I'm sure they struggled the first few years. Jeez, they were practically kids themselves, you know? But being parents to Lexy was just something they did. It was like breathing for them." Joe shrugged.

"So are they going to be surprised when you show up with me and Sofi in tow?" I wanted to try to get a handle on what kind of reception I might expect.

Joe laughed. "Cupcake, I'm counting on it."

"Joe, do they know about me? Do they know I'm coming?"

"Yes and no."

"Joe!"

"Yes, they know about you. No, they don't know you're coming."

I shot him a look that would have withered a lesser man.

"Look. It's like this. These guys have known me since I was eighteen years old. We'd sit there, in the dark after lights out, and talk. Tex would talk about Allie and Lexy. Bobby and Tyrone both had girls back home. Hell, Remy had girls everywhere. And I told them about you."

Remembering what had transpired between Joe and I behind the Tasty Pastry case the night before he left for the Navy, this did not make me feel better. "What, exactly, did you tell them?"

"I told them that I had a girl who I was going to marry, but I had to wait for her to finish growing up. And I was going to sow some wild oats while I waited."

"Hnph."

"Yeah, Tex didn't think much of that idea either, but we were young and the rest of us were stupid, and it sounded good at the time." He gave me the wolf grin.

"So one night, we're in this bar, and we're getting pretty wasted. We'd each put a hundred bucks in the pot, and the guy who danced with the ugliest gal would win the pot. Allie and Tex got to judge."

"Lovely."

"Hey, do you want to hear the story or not? First of all, it was a long time ago, second of all, it was all Bobby's idea, and third of all, I should have won. The gal I got wasn't just homely, she took stupid to all new heights. She's in a bar, on a navy base, and she looks at me and my buddies and says, 'So, are you guys some kind of cops or what?'" Joe shook his head in remembered disgust. Okay, so not being able to tell the difference in Navy uniforms and cop uniforms was pretty pathetic.

"Okay," I sighed. "Tell me the rest."

"So Tyrone is still scoping out possibilities, and in walks LaDawna with some of her friends. He makes a bee-line over for her, and we're all wondering what the hell he's thinking. LaDawna looks like some kind of Nubian princess or something. All long bones and just the way she carries herself. She has the kind of bone structure that will have men turning to look at her on the street when she's eighty. Definitely not a contender for the contest."

"Pretty soon, Tyrone stumbled back over and announced, 'I've found my Stephanie,'" They walked out of the bar together, and got married two weeks later. Been together ever since."

"Then Remy, every damn time we see him, he's found a new girl. And every time he'll come in with the same announcement, 'I've found my Stephanie.' Yeah, well, maybe we'll believe him if he actually brings her to meet everybody, you know? So this time, I'm bringing the real deal. MY Stephanie. Sofi's just the clincher." Joe was so pleased with himself, all I could do was smile.

We made a quick stop at a convenience store in Newark before we headed through town to Tex and Allie's place. I changed Sofi and made sure she was tanked up so she'd hopefully make a good impression on Daddy's friends instead of screaming the walls down as soon as we got there. Joe came back out with a cold case of Corona. "Tex only buys Budweiser," said Joe with open disgust as he climbed back in the Explorer.

A few minutes and several wrong turns later, we pulled into the long driveway of Tex and Allie's '60's subdivision ranch. The house was small and well kept, situated in the middle of a large fenced lot. There were several cars in the driveway already, and I surmised we were the late arrivals. Again. Great.

Joe handed me Sofi, and grabbed the Corona from the back of the SUV. He led the way up the brick pathway, and opened the screen door. "Hey," he called to the back of the house without pausing to knock.

"So am I supposed to jump out of a cake, or what?" I get nervous, and things just fly out of my mouth. So sue me.

Joe's laughter rumbled in front of me. "Just stick with me. But I might take you up on that offer some other time."

"Joe!"

"Hey yourself!"


	7. Chapter 7

Voices were coming from the back of the house, and I followed Joe into the doorway of a homey kitchen, filled to overflowing with laughing, talking people. Quite possibly the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life propped up the far wall of the dining area. Long, lean legs, led to a perfectly toned V-shaped torso, with broad muscular shoulders. Add a face like something one of the masters carved on a good day, electric blue eyes, black hair falling over his forehead, and a smile that would light up New Orleans. Oh. My. Goodness. Before he spoke, I knew this one had to be Remy. Joe wasn't kidding when he said this guy must cut a swath. Good thing Joe had such a firm hold on my heart, or this man would have me sinking in sin and enjoying every second of it.

"Cher! You made it. I was just telling our friends that I've found my Stephanie." Catcalls and general raucous amusement met his announcement. Joe had called this one dead on. I locked glances with him, and shook my head at how well he knew his friend. He kissed me full on right there in front of all his friends, then turned and said, "Yeah, me too, Remy."

"Stephanie, this is Allie and Tex, their daughter Lexy. Next to Lexy is LaDawna, and that's Remy next to her. This guy here is Tyrone, and those are LaDawna and Tyrone's boys, Dante and Tyrell. Everybody, this is Stephanie. And this is our daughter, Sofia." The laughter and joking had stopped suddenly, and you could have heard a pin drop in that room. Slack jawed to a man; Joe had timed his announcement well. I smiled and gave a little finger wave, playing along for Joe.

"Oh, my God!" Allie finally broke the spell of silence and the unabashedly bleached-blonde woman engulfed me in a rib-crushing hug. "Honey, we are all just so pleased to finally meet you!" West Texas still lurked in the back of her voice, and her smile reached her eyes, completely genuine. I could see immediately why Joe admired this woman and her husband. "Good people", Joe had called Bobby. My guess was that all the people in this room qualified as "good people." Walking into that room was like walking into a warm hug after a long, lonely night. I had never felt more welcome.

In moments, I had been kissed numerous times, and Joe was being peppered with questions, one on top of the other, coming so fast there was no way he could answer any or everyone. Lexy had commandeered a sleeping Sofi, and Joe and I had crowded in around the kitchen table, embraced by the warmth that comes along with old friends of long acquaintance.

Tex migrated into the kitchen to check on his five alarm chili and pull hot cornbread out of the oven. The Coronas Joe had bought at the convenience store didn't seem any worse for the wear after being snuggled cheek by jowl in with Tex's Budweisers in an ice chest on the back porch. Beyond the windows, the world was dark and gray with a typical November storm brewing on the horizon. But inside that snug house, laughter flowed like the beer, and the smell of home cooking overrode any winter smells of ozone and rain. Since I was the newest member of the group, I had been regaled with Joe stories, but had managed to raise a few eyebrows when I added some Joe stories of my own. I have to admit, he took it in stride, only shaking his head and laughing while he cuddled Sofi as I told all his oldest, dearest friends the story of how I had locked him out of my car and left him standing in an alley in the middle of winter wearing nothing but his shirt and his socks, with his Johnson swinging at half-mast.

The other men roared with laughter, and Sofi startled awake. Since it was close to feeding time anyway, I excused myself to the living room to nurse her. We settled in on the end of the couch, and a few minutes later, Allie peeked in and asked if we minded company. I'd become pretty nonchalant about nursing Sofi most of the time, but still wasn't quite comfortable in close confines with a bunch of men I'd just met, but other women didn't bother me. I told Allie to come on in, but wasn't too surprised when LaDawna followed her in. "Whoo! Testosterone poisoning coming on in there. Those boys are going to start belching and farting in a minute, and I want out of there before it starts!" Allie and I both laughed; likely LaDawna was right.

Allie had settled on the other end of the couch from Sofi and me. She leaned forward and touched my arm and said, "Stephanie, I can't tell you how glad I am that you're here." I had learned this afternoon that Allie was a toucher. A hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, a gentle nudge as she worked her way around the crowded kitchen. She wasn't pretty in any traditional sense. Hair bleached an unlikely shade of blonde, with a high forehead, and a sprinkling of freckles. Her smile was too wide to be fashionable, and laugh lines were beginning to collect at the corners of her intelligent hazel eyes. She wore baggy jeans and an old faded sweatshirt, comfort clearly taking precedent over fashion. Maybe that was her secret—Allie was comfortable, in her life and in her own skin. It was easy for her to make other people feel comfortable because of that.

"I have to tell you," she continued. "When we first met Joe, I had my reservations about you. Here was this sweet, young thing who was just going to sit at home and wait for Joe to sow his wild oats and come back to collect you whenever he pleased. At least that was the way Joe told it. Well, Tex and I both figured you must either be dumber than a box of rocks or about twelve years old. Next thing we knew, Joe went home on leave and came back in a cast. Seems his sweet young thing had mowed him down on the sidewalk with her Daddy's car because he hadn't called after the big night." At this LaDawna whooped.

"That was you?" she asked incredulously.

"Damn skippy," I replied.

"You go girl!"

Allie laughed as well and said, "After that, we figured there might just be a little more to this girl than Joe realized."

"Joe says you and Tex were high school sweethearts?" I wasn't too sure how much Joe had told these people about our more recent past, so I figured I'd better go slow.

"Yep. Met him at freshman orientation. We got lucky. Most people have to spend a lot of time looking for the right one, but Tex and I just knew the minute we laid eyes on each other. Unfortunately, we laid a lot more than eyes on each other, and I was expecting Lexy by the time we were seniors. Tex's momma had a fit, and my parents weren't much better. Once graduation came, we got the hell out of Dodge and never looked back."

"But things are okay now, right? I mean, it's been a lot of years, and Lexy is such a great kid."

Allie shook her head. "'Fraid not, Steph. Our people have more pride than what's good for them, and once they get up on that high horse, they're determined to beat it to death. My daddy is still convinced Tex ruined his little girl, and according to Tex's momma I'll never be anything but white trash that conspired to wreck his life. We figured early on that Lexy didn't need that, and neither did we."

Allie took a pull on her beer, and smiled a small, bittersweet smile. "It was their loss. And we made do. We learned to make our family where we found it. We got lucky. We found Bobby and Remy, Joe and Tyrone. Then Tyrone found LaDawna and they gave Lexy her cousins, and now we have you and Sofi. It's all good."

"Yeah, Joe told me about the bar where Tyrone met LaDawna. Ugliest girl contest?"

"Oh, honey," chuckled Allie, "You don't know the half of it."

"My story," said LaDawna.

"You sure?" Allie gave LaDawna a serious look.

"We family or not, Allie?"

With that, LaDawna shot Allie a challenging look. Allie shrugged. LaDawna continued, "When I walked into that bar that night, I was in pretty bad shape. I was more than two months gone with the twins, and just looking for a way to stop hurting just for a little while. You ever been there?"

Remembering my panicked embrace with Ranger when I first found out I was pregnant with Sofi, I nodded slowly, looking LaDawna straight in the eyes.

"I was a working girl then. No idea who knocked me up. No idea about much of anything. And this beautiful ebony skinned brother walks right up to me. He's got a smile that would light up the room, you know?" LaDawna's eyes got soft and dreamy, and she continued, "He says to me, 'I just bet my last hundred dollars I could dance with the ugliest girl in the room.' Well, let me tell you, I was more than a little ticked. Talk about a piss-poor pickup line!" We all laughed along with her. It was even more ludicrous because LaDawna was just as Joe had described. She was exquisitely, breathtakingly beautiful.

"Then he said, 'If I dance with you, I won't even be able to pay my bar tab. But if I don't dance with you, I'll regret it the rest of my life.' I thought I'd heard it all, but something about his face, the way he looked at me, told me he meant it. So I told him I'd take him home, and he went over and told his friends goodbye and went home with me. He never touched me that night. We just sat there and talked till he was sober. I told him about the babies, and about my past as a whore. He just said that biology didn't matter, and those were his babies now. We got married two weeks later." LaDawna brushed a tear from her cheek, and I did too.

"Wow." I was speechless. I was so glad for LaDawna that she'd gotten out before that life killed her. I couldn't help but think of Lula and how close Ramirez had come to killing my friend.

"They're keepers," pronounced Allie. She made a visible effort to shake off our semi-melancholy mood. "So how long have you been divorced, Stephanie? I still remember Joe taking off on that Harley when he heard you were getting married. Bobby covered for him at work, and when Joe got back drunk off his ass, Bobby stuck his fingers down his throat and sobered him up. Then he kicked his ass around the block a few times for scaring all of us like that. Joe took the ring he'd bought and threw it as far as he could out in the field, so we knew things hadn't gone well."

"Joe bought me a ring?" I thought I was all cried out, but obviously not. Joe and I still hadn't discussed rings, even with the wedding a week away.

Allie looked at me. "Well, I'm sure you guys will pick out something a lot nicer now. Joe wasn't making much in those days, so it's nothing fancy."

"Does he still have it?" I asked.

"No, honey, he doesn't."

I was sad all out of proportion to not having the ring. How can you miss something you never had? I'd never worn that ring; I'd never even seen it. But the idea that Joe had gone out and bought me a ring and I didn't have it left me feeling bereft.

"Steph, Tex and Remy went out and found the ring. I've got it upstairs. I don't think Joe even knows, but none of us could stand for it to just be thrown away."

"Can I see it?" Suddenly, I was overcome with the need to see the ring that a young idealistic Joe had picked out for me. In my mind's eye, I could still see the flash of the gaudy pear cut solitaire diamond Dickie had given me, glinting smugly at me in the afternoon light as I watched Dickie and Joyce in my dining room. Maybe I just wanted a different ring, a different memory, to take its place. Joe's ring.

Silently, Allie went up the stairs, and returned a few minutes later with a small square box. I opened the lid and saw a perfectly classic yellow gold band set with a modest marquis cut diamond with two smaller stones on either side. Even though the ring had been purchased years before, when I looked at the three small diamonds, I could feel Joe's lips on my fingertips saying, "You, me, and Sofi. Nothing else matters." I took the ring and slipped it on. Belatedly, I looked at Allie for permission.

"Honey," she said, "It's your ring. I was just keeping it for you till you got here."

"Seven years." I said. "I've been divorced seven years. And I almost lost Joe because I was so stupid." And the whole story came pouring out of me. God, I hoped Joe didn't mind. Somehow, I knew if anyone would understand, these women would.

When I finished, we were all snuffling and teary, but Allie kept us focused. "And now you're getting married next week. The good part is just starting, Stephanie."

"Can you guys come? To the wedding I mean? I know it's short notice, but I would really love it if you could be there. And I know it would mean the world to Joe."

"Honey, we'll be there with bells on," said Allie, and LaDawna nodded emphatically.

I stood at Allie's kitchen window, enjoying the quiet and the warm memories of the day we had spent here. I was supposed to be on a beer run to the back porch, but I'd been distracted by the blowing snowflakes outside the window. The temperature had dropped when night had fallen, and the spitting rain of the afternoon had turned into a light sound-deadening snowfall. Nothing was sticking yet, but the small ice crystals blowing gently through the air were hypnotically beautiful.

The twins had finally collapsed in a heap, too exhausted to keep moving. Since their daddy just nonchalantly covered them over with a blanket on the floor where they had fallen, I figured this was a normal occurrence. Lexy was rocking Sofi in the small den while watching a movie, and the other adults were all still gathered in the living room. The monotone of smalltalk was interspersed with occasional light bursts of laughter, and Remy was playing something quiet and intricate on his guitar in the background. I sighed contentedly. It had been a very good day.

I felt Joe's arms slip around my waist from behind, then his warm breath on my neck as he nibbled his way north. 'Perfect,' I thought, and smiled. "What are you thinking about so hard?" Joe asked.

"I was thinking I had a good day." I turned and snuggled into Joe's arms. "I'm glad you brought me. I like your friends."

"I knew you would," Joe said. He took my right hand in his left, and began slowly dancing to the quiet strains of Remy's guitar in the other room. This was nice. I nuzzled in closer, and ran my left hand up the back of Joe's head, pulling him close. My ring caught in his hair.

Joe stopped dead, and looked at my ring finger. "Where in the hell…"

I wrapped both arms around his neck. "Allie saved it for me." I nudged him. "Don't stop dancing, you were doing good."

"How did Allie get it? I remember throwing that ring as far as I could into the middle of a field."

"Remy and Tex went and found it. Allie kept it for me until I got here." Mmmm, this was really nice. Kind of like vertical foreplay with background music. I leaned up on my tip toes to plant a line of kisses along Joe's jawline. Come to think of it, I usually pay so much attention to Joe's eyes, and his ass, I think I've seriously been neglecting his jawline. Sharp and angular, just the right kind of raspy now late in the day with his five o'clock shadow well advanced. I ran the tip of my tongue all along the edge of his jaw from his chin to the bottom of his ear, then lightly ran my teeth over his earlobe, before giving it a gentle suck. There was still a lingering hint of the smell of his shaving cream up high on his neck by his ear. I breathed him in hungrily.

"I was going to get you another ring," he said.

Ring, schming. Couldn't he tell I was ready to yank him out into the snowflakes and get him naked already? I pulled back and looked into his earnest face. Nope. He was a man with a mission. Damn.

"I don't want another ring."

"I just never could figure out if I should get another engagement ring made to match the wedding set, or buy a whole new set." He explained.

"The wedding set?"

"Yeah, the wedding rings that went with the engagement ring."

"You kept the wedding rings?" I was beginning to tear up again.

"Well, yeah. I was all kinds of broken up when I threw away the engagement ring, but I still knew I was going to marry you eventually. Cupcake, don't cry. Shit, I hate it when I say the wrong thing." Joe was at a loss. "Look, we'll go to the jeweler's tomorrow. We'll pick out whatever you want. These stones are too small anyway, but it was all I could afford back then. We'll get you something really nice, something shiny and new, without any baggage, okay?" I laughed through my tears because I had a sudden flashback to Joe desperately trying to keep me from losing it when we thought Rex had been eaten by my neighbor's cat. His friend had a pet store, he'd get him to open it right now tonight, and we'd go get a brand new hamster right that minute if I just wouldn't cry.

"Joe, I don't want a new ring." He started to argue, and I gently put my fingers over his lips. "A new ring right out of a jeweler's box is boring, Joe. It would never fit us, you know? Our whole relationship is about our baggage. Everything we have is about baggage. We don't do ANYTHING the easy way, not from the very first day." Joe shook his head and I continued, "I like our baggage, Joe. It's what makes us unique. It's what defines our relationship. So no, I don't want a new generic ring that doesn't have a story to tell. I want the ring that flew through the air, and landed in a field--that was picked up by friends who love you so much they went and looked for it until they found it. And then kept it for so long." I paused. "And I want the wedding rings that you held onto all these years. The one you bought for me when we were practically kids. I want all of that—the memories, the baggage, the friends, the whole nine yards. It's us, Joe. I want us."

"So I did good?" A slow smile was working its way over his face, and he was starting to sway to the music again.

"Yeah, you did good." I snuggled up next to him, content with dancing in the kitchen.

"How good?" The slow smile had turned into the wolf grin, and as usual, that sent a flash of heat right to my doo-dah.

"Come outside and I'll show you."

Snowflakes glittered in our hair when we finally made it into the living room with the shaing-hai'd beers fifteen minutes later. My teeth were chattering, and I had a sinking feeling my wet jeans would give away our activities. Yeah, like nobody would be able to tell anyway. I've got such a poker face about these things. The one thing I had never been able to hide was my reaction to a Morelli-gasm. It got me into trouble with my mother when I was sixteen, and ever since then I might as well tattoo "well-fucked by Joe" on my forehead whenever he touched me.

I let Joe enter the living room a few minutes ahead of me, and distribute the beer. I tried to buy some time in the downstairs powder room for the color in my face to subside, but whatever it is that clues people in to my sex life with Joe, it goes beyond mere blushing. Sometimes I think he marks me as his, and that's what people respond to. Gathering my bravado together over my damp clothes, I tried to blend into the crowd, doing my best to look nonchalant.

"Melted snow on your ass, Stephanie," said Tex, conversationally. Gee, thanks.

"Cher, I keep tellin' you. You gotta let the girl get on top sometimes, 'specially in the snow." Remy couldn't wait to add his two cents.

Joe had commandeered a straight-backed chair from the kitchen, and was smiling easily at his friends' laughter. What the hell. I shrugged at Joe, then sauntered over and planted myself square on his lap, face to face, with my legs straddling his. "Yeah, cher," I said in my best come-hither voice and a really bad attempt at Remy's Louisiana accent, "Sometimes you gotta let the girl on top."

"Is that so?" The devil was dancing behind his smoking eyes, but I decided playing with fire was a good thing. Next thing I knew, Joe had grabbed me by my ass, and pulled me close. I leaned down to meet his kiss, his tongue wildly exploring my mouth. The only things still anchoring me to this earth were the feel of his hands splayed across my ass, and the suction of his lips as his mouth devoured mine, right there in front of… Oh, jeez. There were a room full of people here, all catcalling and laughing uproariously. How I had managed to forget where we were and who we were with was scary. Good scary, but scary anyway.

I decided I'd be better off to just laugh it off like everyone else, but I blushed to the roots of my hair when Joe announced a few minutes later that we needed to get on the road since the snow was starting to stick. General disbelief and a few helpful suggestions greeted his announcement, but it was all good-natured, and we said our goodbyes. Tyrone and LaDawna weren't sure when they would arrive next weekend for our festivities, but we promised them our guest room since their drive was the longest. Remy would stay in Newark with Allie and Tex. Everybody had the schedule down; complete with directions to Rossini's for the family luncheon. With remonstrances of safe driving and a promise to see everyone Saturday morning, we collected Sofi and headed out to the Explorer.

We settled Sofi in the car seat with an extra blanket, and she blinked a few times at the overhead light before settling back to sleep. Joe closed my door, then came around to the drivers' side. After he climbed in, and cranked over the engine, he turned to me and said, "I thought lunch at Rossini's was just for the immediate family."

"It is." I dared him to say anything else.

I got treated to the full-on, no-wolf, no-bullshit Morelli smile that always took my breath away. "Love you, Cupcake."

"Love you too, Joe." He might get tired of hearing me say it, but after not being willing to say it for so long when we were dating and sparring with each other, then not being able to say it when I thought I had lost him forever, I never let a chance go by without telling Joe exactly how much he meant to me.


	8. Chapter 8

We rode along in silence for awhile, Joe concentrating on the increasingly slippery road. I never seem to get enough of looking at him, so I saw a fleeting look cross his face. Kind of a smile, but kind of sad. "What?" I asked. Again, Joe knows I have more curiosity than any cat.

"I was just thinking." Yeah, so…

Before I could say anything out loud, he continued. "I was just thinking about the rings. Well, our rings, I guess." He looked kind of sheepish. "They…" he trailed off. Nodded his head as if he'd decided it was okay to continue. "They kept me company a few nights, Cupcake."

"Sometimes, we'd have a knock down drag out fight, and you'd leave. I'd just stare at those rings sitting in the palm of my hand for hours, like they had all the answers if I just knew the right questions to ask. The night…"

Joe choked up, and I could see tears pooling in his eyes, though none fell. "The night I sat out in your parking lot. The night you were with… him. I just held onto those rings so tight. It was like the pain of those rings cutting into my hands was all that kept me anchored." He laughed a short, sad laugh. "The next day at work, I had to keep my hand clenched shut, because you could still see the marks."

"The worst one, though, was April." I sucked in a breath. Remembering April hurt like hell, even when viewed through the lens of everything coming out okay on the other side. April was my nightmare. April was ugly. April was so full of hurt and anger I never wanted to go back there. I blindly reached for Joe's hand. If he was determined to face down April, I could force myself to do it, but only if I had his strength to rely on.

Joe's voice was quiet, controlled, but I couldn't even imagine what it was costing him in terms of self-restraint. "I got home from work that night. I pulled out a beer. I got a glass down from the cupboard. I dropped the rings in the bottom of the glass, and filled it to the top. I was done. I didn't want any more reminders of what could have been. I drained the glass without stopping for a breath. When I looked in the bottom, the two rings were overlapping each other and stuck to the bottom of the glass." Joe paused for breath, then continued.

"I downed six beers in a row that night, and the rings never budged. I finally fished them out of the bottom of the glass, and drug my drunk ass up the stairs. I threw the rings in my nightstand and slammed the drawer shut. I swore I'd never open it again."

"And I didn't. I left it closed for six months." Joe struggled for composure again, and maneuvered the SUV around a couple of slick corners.

"And then your mother showed up with your letters." Joe sniffed and shook his head to clear it. "I went upstairs and opened my nightstand. The rings were still right there on top. Still stuck together, still overlapping. I spent hours that night. Staring at those rings, reading your letters over and over again. The rings just sat there, not moving, still bonded together. And I began to hope that maybe there was a chance. If I wasn't stupid, if I was just straight with you about how I felt and what I wanted, maybe you would love me back. Maybe I'd finally be able to see that ring on your finger instead of staring up at me from my own stupid hand."

I was crying silently but uncontrollably by then. I didn't know how to stop. If April had been hell for me, it had been nothing less for Joe. I understood then what Grandma Bella had meant about needing to know that Joe would stand with me at the gates of hell.

Words failed me in the face of Joe's disclosure, so we finished the drive home in silence, stealing touches and glances. Joe brought Sofi into the house while I carried her diaper bag. She roused by then, hungry and demanding. I smiled softly at how different yet how like father and daughter were. Joe's eyes were hungry and demanding too, and looked remarkably like Sofi's but for entirely different reasons.

Joe headed up the stairs to change Sofi, and I quickly followed him. So far, we hadn't had time to do much more than stuff Sofi's cradle into Joe's former office. We had big plans for repainting and turning the room into a real nursery after the wedding, but things had been pretty hectic. I turned left at the top of the stairs and went into our bedroom while Joe continued down the hallway with Sofi. I dropped my clothes quickly, and slid into bed. Unfortunately, the old row house had old-fashioned single pane windows, and on this wintry night the sheets were chill and I shivered alone in the big bed.

I could hear them coming down the hall before I saw them. Sofi was in full-on gripe mode since she'd had to wait for food. Her Daddy's reassurance that she'd really needed a clean diaper first wasn't cutting any ice in her tirade. Since waiting for food wasn't my favorite thing to do either, I kind of understood where Sofi was coming from. Besides, my breasts were aching and swollen, and if she didn't get here soon, I knew I would start to leak. Sofi gave a particularly sharp cry, and sure enough my milk let down and began to flow. Damn. I started to reach for a towel from a stack next to the bed, and looked up to see what was keeping them.

Joe had stopped dead in the doorway, a starving Sofi still squirming in his arms. The conversation in the car had left us both emotionally charged, but the Joe standing in the doorway looked primal, fierce. His eyes burned like coals, and his breathing was ragged. From across the room, I could tell his erection was frantically straining against the front of his jeans. I held out my arms, taking Sofi in one arm and pulling Joe toward me with the other. Sofi latched onto my breast with a ferocity that caused me to catch my breath. I fumbled one-handed with the buttons on Joe's shirt, overwhelmed with the need to feel his skin next to mine. With a guttural hiss, I gave up and tore his shirt open, scattering buttons across the room. My own impatience seemed to unleash something in Joe. With a deep moan, his mouth settled over my other aching breast, sucking powerfully at my nipple. His hands made quick work of his jeans and boxers, and he lay on the bed fully exposed to my hungry gaze. He slowly wrapped both arms around me, encompassing me and the baby in the strength of his embrace. His warm fingers massaged my naked back, and I instinctively arched to give him greater access to my breast. His hand slid down my hip and around the outside of my thigh to settle at the juncture of my legs.

Looking down at the two dark heads at each of my breasts, engaged with each of them in such an elemental way, I could literally feel the walls of my vagina convulsing with desire as Joe slid two strong fingers deep inside of me. The combination of the strong pull of Joe's mouth on my breast and his hand buried deep within me, touching the mouth of my womb was too much, and I began shivering in anticipation of a major orgasm. Joe let go my nipple and stilled his hand, his mouth kissing its way softly up to my ear. "Shhhh. Let it build. We have all night." I moaned in denial, but I knew he was right. As much as I wanted the sweet release of climax, I wanted to savor this night. I wanted to touch every inch of him, I wanted to leave no doubt in his mind that my love for him knew no bounds. I moaned again, "Yes. Slow…."

Joe climbed behind me then to nestle me between his legs. His fingers beat a soft tattoo down my arms, in stark contrast to the flaming erection that rammed into my back. Soft kisses rained down the side of my neck and spilled over onto my shoulder. The cool air and Joe's hot mouth made me feel like my skin was catching fire. Thankfully, Sofi finished nursing and fell bonelessly asleep. I quickly transferred her to her cradle, and swaddled her with an extra blanket to ward off the night chill, then rushed back to the bedroom to slide my now shivering body next to the warmth of Joe's.

His hands moved with slow and exquisite precision over my body, knowing it better than he knew his own, I sometimes thought. I brushed my lips gently against his, then continued down his chin, past the strong cords of his throat and onto the silken skin of his shoulders. I kissed my way through the whorls of hair on his chest, paying special attention to his erect nipples. I laved and bit them tenderly, and laughed low in my throat when I felt his erection jump in response.

The laugh may have been a tactical mistake, because Joe growled and I found myself flat on my back with Joe's weight pinning me to the bed. I ran stroking fingers through his hair as he suckled my breasts, then licked his way along my belly to my dripping folds. I yanked his hair in reflex as his tongue settled on _that _spot. His hands insistently spread my legs as far apart as they would go, and he seemed intent on exploring every fold, every crevice, every inch of me. As Joe's expert tongue played over me, I knew I was once again reaching a point of no return. "Please," I begged. I didn't know what I was even begging for, but I knew that my only hope was Joe.

Hooking one of my knees over his shoulder, Joe gave me what I begged for, and I screamed his name as he rammed his monstrous erection home. I clutched wildly at his ass, as if I could pull all of him inside me. The only thought I had was that I wanted to keep him with me, keep him a part of me. If I could have taken his entire body inside my own, I would have. Joe kept a steady and mind bending rhythm as I rode crest after crest of ecstasy, my muscles clutching his erection to squeeze every drop of him into me.

Joe grabbed my ass with both hands, and rode me with an intensity I had never known. He finally gave a last guttural cry and I could feel his hot seed filling me, soothing me, making my own orgasms complete.

I lay there in the lamplight, contemplating the man next to me, inside of me. I was suddenly overcome with emotion and grew teary. "I love you, Joe," I whispered huskily. "I never thought I could be this happy." I felt Joe nod against my breasts.

"I love you too." He shook his head. "Sometimes I think I'm dreaming. Two weeks ago, I felt like my heart was broken, and I would never be happy again. How do things change this much so fast? You and Sofi…" he broke down and I could see he was fighting tears of his own.

"Miracles, maybe?" I suggested. "Maybe if you take two broken hearts, and you add enough love, you get a miracle. And those hearts heal as one heart. Because that's what it feels like to me."

"You are my heart," Joe whispered.

"I know. And you're mine," I said. Then I gently turned him over on his back. I began massaging and kissing my way down his exquisite body. "Heart, soul, body… all mine. You belong to me, Joe." I ended my declaration of ownership by half-swallowing his still semi-hard erection, taking him deep into my throat, and palpating his glans against the roof of my mouth.

"God, yes," he replied, hands tangling in my hair.

"Say it," I demanded, licking along the ridge on the base of his penis.

"I'm yours, Cupcake."

I smiled to myself before licking him in earnest. Good to get these things clear.

I woke up Sunday morning and stretched languidly in the wintry light. Joe had brought Sofi in early to nurse, but they were both absent from the bed and the bedroom. I could hear vague kitchen sounds downstairs, and the half grin I'd awakened with turned into a completely self-satisfied smile. Joe and I had certainly shared a number of memorable nights, but last night's sweetness lingered in the giddy sense of well-being that profused every inch of my body, and even the welcome soreness that advertised a night spent being well-loved. I took a quick shower, and dressed in a loose pair of jogging pants and an old Trenton PD t-shirt of Joe's. I pulled my mass of curls back into a loose ponytail and decided I'd rather spend my morning downstairs with Joe and Sofi than applying makeup.

I stopped short at the bottom of the stairs when I heard an unmistakable female voice coming from my kitchen. I took a deep breath. Get a grip, Stephanie. Joe spent last night exactly where he wanted to be. And the evidence of that was written all over my face, and in the small marks of passion Joe had left on my neck and shoulders. I might be disadvantaged by the wild hair all over the place, bare face, and Joe's old workout clothes, but even a blind man would be able to see I'd obviously just tumbled out of Joe's bed after a night of marathon sex. Use the tools in your toolbox, right?

I strolled around the corner, and gave a slow smile. Sofi was settled in her bouncy chair on the kitchen counter avidly watching Joe's every move. For his part, Joe was moving efficiently around the kitchen, making an elaborate breakfast. "Good morning," I drawled. Good, my voice still had that smoky, just-woke-up quality.

Joe moved around the counter and came over to land a quick kiss on my mouth. "Hey, Cupcake. Sofi and I were going to bring you breakfast in bed."

Still no visible sign of the interloper, and she wasn't talking either. Okay, fine. I can play by those rules. "Mmmm," I purred, playing dumb. "Good thing I woke up starving." I ran my hands up Joe's spine and pulled him close for a deep kiss that promised wild acrobatics on our return to the bedroom.

A throat cleared from the breakfast nook. Gotcha. The best part about playing chicken is watching the other person blink. "Joe," I said innocently, "you didn't tell me we had guests."

Joe didn't just fall off the turnip truck, and his eyes gleamed wickedly at me, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He knew exactly what I was playing at, but to his credit, he just let me play. "Terry dropped by," he said, without expression.

"Terry?" As if I had never heard the name before. I peeked around the corner of the breakfast nook. "Oh, Terry." That was me—all surprise and wouldn't say 'shit' if I had a mouthful. "I'm afraid we're getting started a little slow this morning." I smiled complacently. Choke on it, Terry.

"Good morning, Stephanie," said evil, nasty, perfectly groomed with her boobs sticking out to _here_ Terry Gilman. Unless you got dragged into church, who has on pantyhose at 9:30 on a Sunday morning, anyway. Bitch.

"What brings you by?" I poured myself a cup of coffee with an easy familiarity, then scooped up Sofi and settled in at the table next to she-who-must-die.

"Well, I just wanted a chance to congratulate Joe on his beautiful baby girl." Her smile was plastered in place, but her eyes were overly bright and glaring daggers through me.

"Yes," I cooed at Sofi. "She looks just like her Daddy, don't you Princess? Are you Daddy's princess?" Sofi squirmed then waved her arms and legs angrily. Momma was in the room already and Sofi was not nursing. All was not right with Sofi's world. Momma was late for feeding time, and Sofi wasn't happy. She started to howl in earnest, and I saw Terry flinch from Sofi's high-pitched keening. Such a smart little girl, helping Momma out to get rid of mean, icky Terry.

Sofi latched on, hungrily and noisily, insistently kneading the breast I'd bared to feed her. Remembering the ferocity with which Joe attacked my breast last night, I raised my eyes to meet his. Joe stood transfixed in the kitchen, unmoving, spatula still in his hand. His eyes were hot as he watched his daughter greedily suckling my breast. I smiled a slow, wicked smile.

"Your pancakes are burning, Honey." I said, cool as water.

"Shit!" Joe went into panic mode in the kitchen, while I just smiled lazily. Terry seethed in the chair next to me.

"Terry, did you want to stay for breakfast?" I asked innocently. "Joe's terrific in the kitchen." Joe shot a warning glance over at me, and I just raised my eyebrows and gave a lingering glance to _that_ spot on the kitchen floor. Joe was, in fact, terrific in the kitchen. And on the table, and on the couch, on the stairs, all the bedrooms, in the bathroom, in the hallway once when we couldn't make it into the bedroom, up against the wall…

Joe scraped his burned mess of pancakes into the sink, then gave up and threw in the other pans he'd been using. Pity. Breakfast didn't sound like a bad idea, but there wasn't going to be anything edible coming out of this kitchen this morning.

"I think I'll pass," Terry grated out as she slithered out of her chair. "Your baby really is lovely. I'll see myself out."

I concentrated hard on the top of Sofi's head, since I didn't think "Fuck off," was really an appropriate rejoinder, but I knew I wouldn't be able to force any other words past my lips.

I heard the front door close behind the pantyhose-clad anti-Christ. I got up and carefully placed a sleepy Sofi back in her bouncy chair, then moved the chair into the living room and set it safely on the floor. I walked back into the kitchen, where Joe was still regarding the burned mess that had been such a promising breakfast a little while ago.

"No breakfast," he said, unnecessarily.

"That's okay," I replied. "I wasn't hungry for breakfast anyway."

I took him by the hand, led him over to _that spot_ on the kitchen floor, and laid him gently down. I kissed him soft and slow, then slowly took off my clothes. Joe smiled at me. Then his clothes. It was soft, it was gentle, and it was thorough.

Terry Cooties had been all over my kitchen, but we had thoroughly exorcised them by the time I was done having my way with Joe on the linoleum. I'd marked my territory, on Joe and on my kitchen.

Then my stomach growled.

"Probably the mothers got donuts." Joe rumbled under my ear.

"Works for me," I said into his chest hair.

Sweaty sex on the kitchen floor definitely called for another shower before facing the mothers. Besides, I needed to make sure there weren't any residual Terry cooties left on Joe, so I was sure to soap him up really thoroughly. After running all three of us through the wash cycle in the upstairs bathroom, it was nearly lunchtime and we decided to invade my parents' house in hopes of lunch. Thankfully, Grandma Mazur had abandoned Joe's privates as a topic of conversation. However, she was in fine form and in a full swivet about her choice of date for our wedding on Saturday. And she was compelled to discuss, at excruciating length, the various advantages and disadvantages of each potential date's privates and her estimation of their bedroom performance. God knows how long she had been stuck in this groove. My father's eyes were glazed over and he looked like he had been starched into his shirts. My mother's hard consonants were suspiciously slurred, and she kept tearing up about her baby getting married. Since she had been pushing me to get married again before the ink was dry on my divorce decree, I just rolled my eyes at this last bit. She had also laid in a good supply of a very nice merlot (Joe) and an enormous pineapple upside down cake (me). That's my mother: always prepared. My guess is she'd been ironing into the wee hours all week, and tamping down the urge to clock Grandma Mazur with the iron on an hourly basis.

I loved my grandmother, but I didn't have to live with her.

When lunch was finished and my mother got up to go get the dessert from the kitchen, I rose with her and followed her in to the kitchen table. She kept up a monotonous chatter as she gathered dessert plates and forks, then fluttered to a stop in front of the cake. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. I squeezed her slightly. When had my mother become shorter than I was? When had her bones become so thin and bird-like? When had the laugh lines on her face become permanent? She reached up and covered my hand, and patted me like she had so many times when I was growing up. Three light taps, in quick succession always meant that everything would be okay, my childhood talisman invoked in this familiar kitchen even as my own child slumbered in the other room.

"Thank you, Mom. I know I don't always say it, but thank you." I started to tear up. "Thank you for Joe. Thank you for bringing him back to me."

"No, sweetie. I just gave him a push. You and Joe found your way back to each other." My mother smiled gently at me, and I realized how beautiful those laugh lines were. How many times had I seen just that look on her face, and never paid any attention?

"But you helped." I smiled at her through my tears.

"Of course I helped. I'm your mother." She took a knife and began cutting the cake into slices. When in doubt, keep your hands busy and your guests' mouths full. "You don't just stop being a mother because your child grows up." She leveled a significant glance at me. "Or when your child doesn't want you to mother them any more."

I looked away, ashamed at my earlier self—the one who fought so hard against anything and everything my mother had ever tried to tell me. My adolescent rebellion had long outlasted that of most other people. When I was sixteen, my mother told me to stay away from Joe Morelli, and nothing could have induced me more to hover like a moth to his flame. When Joe came back into my life a few years later, leaner, older, more mature, and my mother tried to push me in his direction, I resisted. No good reason, except I was still determined to define myself by what I was rebelling against instead of what I wanted.

"You have Sofi now," my mother continued. "You know. You'll never stop being her mother. They take that little body out of your own, and somehow your heart comes with it. And forever after that your heart is walking around outside your body. You'll never stop wanting her to be happy, to keep her safe. Sometimes I know you thought I stifled you, and maybe I did. But I did it because I worried, and because I loved you, Stephanie. Please never doubt that."

"Never," I said. I kissed my mother softly on the cheek, and picked up half the dessert plates to follow her in to the dining room.

Sofi was happily grinning from her grandfather's lap when we went back in, and Joe was making goofy faces at her. Her grin was so wide I was surprised her little face didn't crack, but she was obviously happy and well-loved. I spared a glance at my mother over the top of Sofi's head, and she gave me a conspirational smile. In the old days, I would have railed against the necessity of my becoming a mother before I could bask in my mother's approval. Believing absolutely in the karmic game of "what goes around comes around" I figured Sofi would lead me a merry chase in her later years. If the worst thing I did was try to protect her too much, I would still be a pretty good mother. Not perfect, but good enough. And finally that was enough for me in my relationship with my own mother. She wasn't perfect, but she loved me and that was good enough. We would probably never see things exactly the same way. I loved my new job, loved the challenge of stretching my own capabilities, and I had no desire to trade that in to learn to make manicotti at six on the dot every night. Lucky for me, Joe could cook, and didn't mind takeout. Our marriage wouldn't be a carbon copy of my parents', but that was okay. We would build something together, something that would work for us.

Dinner at Joe's mother's house was uneventful but relaxed. I still hadn't settled on something comfortable to call Mrs. Morelli, but figured that would eventually sort itself out. After dinner, Grandma Bella brought out the old photo albums, and we spent a companionable evening looking at generations of Morellis. As a bonus, Grandma Bella seemed determined to trot out every potentially embarrassing photograph of Joe that had ever been taken. From his first bath at home at three days old, to a buck naked and screaming two year old Joe running hell bent for leather in the sprinklers. A scowling Joe at the cub scout award banquets was self-explanatory as to why Joe had never become a boy scout. Joe with santa at seven with no front teeth and a really bad haircut he could have only given himself, judging by the jagged forays into his scalp at irregular intervals. Finally, a devastatingly handsome Joe at eighteen in his crisp Navy white dress uniform. I think my breath actually caught in my throat. Joe smiled in devilish anticipation.

We made our excuses and headed for the SUV. It would be a busy week with a full work load for both of us followed by Saturday's blowout wedding and christening, then the open house afterward, but we were both anxious to have the formalities done with.

We pulled up in front of the house on Slater, and Joe turned to me, eyes gleaming in the light from the street lamp. "So you liked the whites, huh?"

I smiled lazily up at him. "Took me back to being sixteen again. If you'd had on your uniform, we would have never made it to behind the pastry case."

He grinned his slow wolf smile at me. "You want me bad."

"Don't you ever doubt it."


	9. Chapter 9

My cell phone chirped far too early on Saturday morning. I rolled over carefully since Sofi had fallen asleep next to me after an early morning breakfast. "Hello?" my voice was still raspy and half asleep.

"This sucks." Morelli was not a happy camper this morning. Remembering his usual morning state, I wasn't surprised.

I chuckled at his obvious distress. "What time is it?" My brain was starting to wake up, and I suddenly remembered we had a lot of things to do today, starting awfully early.

"6:30."

"Shit! I'm supposed to be at Mr. Alexander's at 7:00." I clutched Sofi to me and stood bolt upright in the middle of my old bedroom in my parents' house. I looked around wildly, like a deer caught in a pair of headlights, no clue which way to go first.

Joe chuckled at me. "That's about what I figured. See you at the church, Cupcake." Click.

Joe's timing was superb. I hit the hallway just as my father was stumbling out of the master bedroom. I shoved Sofi into the middle of his chest, and his arms reflexively caught his youngest granddaughter. Thank God his fatherly and grandfatherly skills had been well-honed over the years. "What…" he started, but I just pushed past him and slammed the bathroom door shut in his face, clicking the lock for good measure.

Fifteen minutes later, I was showered with my wet hair shoved up into a towel, and my makeup bag slung under my arm. I threw on a pair of jeans and a big button-up shirt of Joe's that I'd commandeered just for the occasion. I had needed something that wouldn't disarrange whatever Mr. Alexander decided to do to my hair. I could hear my mother clanking around in the kitchen as I thundered down the stairs. "Sofi nursed at five, and there's breastmilk in the fridge!" I called out over my shoulder as I hit the front door at full speed. I didn't wait for an answer, figuring mom would manage just fine without me this morning.

Sally had taken over our house yesterday to put up decorations and get everything set up for the open house tonight, and Joe and I had been summarily kicked out on the street. Joe had lobbied long and hard for a motel room, but I had liked the idea of being married from our parents' homes. I had spent the night in my childhood bedroom for the last time, and Joe had stayed with his mother and Grandma Bella. From the sound of things this morning, Joe had been underwhelmed with sleeping alone at his mother's house. I smiled in anticipation. Tonight would be my wedding night with Joe. Considering that had been the focus of my daydreams for more years than I could remember, I decided I was entitled to a little early morning gloat.

I pulled up to the emergency exit of the mall to find Mr. Alexander waiting for me with the door propped open. I was only slightly late, but Lula was already there ahead of me. After a lot of thought and discussion, I had decided on Lula as my only attendant, and asked MaryLou to serve as Sofi's godmother this afternoon. Joe had asked Mooch to be his best man, with Remy as godfather to Sofi.

Lula's head was already half-covered with foil strips. Obviously, she'd decided yet another new color was needed to celebrate the day. I purposely bit the inside of my cheek and refused to ask what color she'd picked. Reaching a compromise on a maid of honor dress had taken negotiations that rivaled peace talks in the middle east. We'd finally settled on a two-piece number. The top was a strapless red satin that zipped up the back. I had drawn the line at spandex and sequins, and Lula had rebelled at sleeves or any hint of extra fabric over her prodigious boobs. The negotiated truce stipulated that the matching red satin a-line skirt would be worn to the church, and the black leather miniskirt that Lula had chosen would not make an appearance until the open house tonight. Lula had given her famous rhinoceros look at that, so I wasn't holding my breath. I half expected the black leather miniskirt to undulate down the aisle at Sofi's christening.

I resigned myself that there was only so much control one could exert over a woman of Lula's temperament and proportions, and decided to enjoy the pampering. Mr. Alexander and his assistants dried, teased, and curled my mass of hair to a fare-thee-well, then his make up girl started in. In the meantime, Lula and I munched our way through half a box of Boston Creams and laughed until our sides ached. Lula had never been a wedding attendant before, and I think she was hoping seeing her walk down the idea might give Tank some ideas. I know I was. Subtle as a Mack truck, that was me, but when you're dealing with someone named Tank, sometimes drastic measures are necessary.

Finally, Mr. Alexander whirled my chair around and ceremoniously uncovered the mirror. I just stared for a few minutes, then my face slowly lit in a smile. My hair looked like casual curls had been randomly pulled up on top of my head and threaded with pearls and white roses, while riotous tendrils curled randomly around my ears, over the nap of my neck, and spilled over the tops of my shoulders. Men might be fooled into thinking this was a nonchalant hairstyle, but all the women would know of the hours it took to achieve this gently tousled look. My makeup was pure perfection, making my skin look milkier, my lips more red and pouty, and the blue of my eyes seemed deeper and more intense. "Thank you," I murmured to Mr. Alexander, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, careful not to smudge the artful application of lipstick.

Lula looked spectacular with her dark brown curls pulled on top of her head with just the barest kiss of deep auburn foil highlights. "You look beautiful, Lula," I told her sincerely.

Lula smiled at me, then said, "So do you, girl. Officer Hottie gonna have to beat them off with a stick."

I laughed. "You think so? You ever seen Officer Hottie in a black tuxedo? I think I'm going to need a big stick of my own."

"Hot flash!" cried Lula, frantically waving her hands in front of her face. Hot flash, indeed.

Lula and I motored over to the church and managed to escape into the back entrance with no one the wiser. I have to admit we both looked pretty silly with our elaborate hair and makeup matched with worn jeans and the groom's discarded shirt in my case, and a front-snap sports bra in Lula's case. Seems she'd forgotten about the whole "fit over the hair thing" this morning, and was stuck sneaking into church wearing her bra. We giggled our way down the hallway, and locked ourselves in the bathroom with our gowns to finish getting ready. MaryLou was there to meet us. She may not have been my maid of honor in name, but there was no way she was going to miss out on anything. She and Lula understood each other. Lula wasn't Catholic and couldn't stand as godmother to Sofi, but couldn't wait to march down the aisle in front of me and have a front row view of the Burg's wedding of the decade.

MaryLou and Lula helped me into my dress, and it was every bit as gorgeous as I remembered. I was grateful for the forgiving nature of the a-line skirt, since I didn't remember the waist being quite this tight when I'd tried it on two weeks ago. When I faced the cheval mirror, though, I was more than pleased. Let's be honest. I wanted to knock Joe's socks off, and I was completely and totally confident that this would do it. If I managed the proper sway to my hips and come-hither look in my eyes, I might actually get an audible indrawn breath from him as I walked up the aisle.

My father knocked on the door. "Stephanie? You ready."

"Yes."

MaryLou hugged me, with tears standing in her eyes. Of all my friends, she had been there the longest and knew just how much this day meant to me. She hugged me, careful not to crush my dress, and whispered, "Be happy."

"I am," I answered, my smile dazzling.

Lula, on the other hand, looked ready to bolt. Her eyes were bugging out of her head, and she was starting to hyperventilate. As MaryLou left to take her place on the bride's side of the church, I looked deep into Lula's panicked eyes. "Breathe, Lula. Everything is going to be okay."

Lula nodded her head jerkily, then sketched the sign of the cross. I rolled my eyes. When she got stressed, sometimes Lula forgot she wasn't Catholic. "Remember, slow steps. Just keep your eye on the priest or on Joe if you get nervous, okay? You'll do great."

Lula tottered out the door, then seemed to recover herself. I watched her start down the aisle, then my father came up and took my arm.

"I feel underdressed. I shoulda worn my post office uniform." I stared at him like monkeys were flying out of his mouth. What the hell did that mean.

He gestured with his head for me to peek through the archway.

There, in a neat row on the groom's side of the church were a straight line of dress navy whites in the fourth row. Remy, Tex and Tyrone sure cleaned up well, and my eyes started to water at the idea they had donned their dress uniforms to honor Joe on his wedding day. Then I looked over to the bride's side. A line of men in Rangeman black hulked over row four. The black uniforms were shooting looks at the guys in the white uniforms, and it looked like a gang war might break out at any minute. The Rangeman guys seemed unhappy that the Navy guys got to wear their dress whites, and were quietly giving Ranger and Tank hell for not having them wear their OWN military uniforms instead of the plain Rangeman uniforms. The Navy guys were not happy that the Rangeman uniforms outbulked and outnumbered them, but seemed to take solace in the fact that their chests were more spectacularly decorated.

"Let's make it fast, Dad, before all hell breaks loose out there," I muttered as I took my place at my father's side and the organ music swelled. Taking a deep breath, we stepped out into the aisle.

Sally had outdone himself. The church was a study in simple elegance. Simple tulle bows adorned the ends of the pews, each studded with a single red rose. I smiled at my father's understatement. Every third seat was occupied by one of Trenton's finest in their best dress blues. Uniforms seemed to be the order of the day. The front of the church shone with an array of white candles and an enormous spray of red roses. Father DiMarco was resplendent in his green silk vestments, standing next to Joe and Mooch in elegant black tuxedoes.

I felt my breath catch in my throat as Joe turned slowly to face me, and our eyes locked. He had never been more handsome. I studied the beloved face that I knew so well, and realized with every step that this was the culmination of every hope and dream I'd had since I was six years old. The rest of the church seemed empty around me, because I could see no one but Joe. I knew from that first glance that the church was packed full of well-wishers, family, and frankly, probably a smattering of prurient voyeurs as well, who didn't want to miss anything in case the roof collapsed, or there was a shootout over the sacramental wine.

But for me, in that moment, time stood still. I would frame that picture of Joe standing in the sunlight next to the priest, waiting to make me his wife, for all time and tuck it away in my heart. I would savor this moment with every new child born, every gray hair, every anniversary. With every step forward that I took, I could hear Joe's voice whispering in my ear. "Mother of my children," "I will love you all the days of my life." "You are my heart." In a connection that defied the bounds of science, I saw Joe draw in a shuddering breath as his eyes teared up, and he reached out his hand toward me.

Without a second thought or backward glance, I left my father standing in the middle of the aisle and threw myself full tilt into Joe's arms. He caught me up in his arms like I knew he would, and we unselfconsciously wiped away each other's tears, my poor tattered roses crushed between our bodies. Father DiMarco ostentatiously cleared his throat, and I realized then that our guests were laughing, but most were laughing through tears of their own.

"Sorry, Father," said Joe.

"You two seem to be in a bit of a hurry," teased Father DiMarco.

"Well, the christening's at two," said Joe. Smartass.

"We need to have a talk, Joseph." Father DiMarco shook his head, but he was having a hard time keeping a straight face. The crowd roared. I could see the Dress Whites nudging each other. Score one for the Navy. The Rangemen scowled.

When things were quiet, Father DiMarco began the service. Once the priest began to speak, I could see nothing but Joe's beloved face.

"Almighty God, hear our prayers for Joseph and Stephanie, who have come here to be united in the sacrament of marriage. Give them your blessing, and strengthen their love for each other. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever."

The "amen" echoed through the building.

"Joseph and Stephanie, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?

Will you love and honor each other as husband and wife for the rest of your lives?

Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the Law of Love and Compassion?

Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, with your hands joined and declare your consent before God and his Church, this community of your family and friends."

With each affirmation my heart grew lighter. Our hands were gripping each other so tightly I wasn't sure either of us would have any feeling left. Then Father DiMarco turned to Joe expectantly.

Without pause, and with perfect calm, Joe proclaimed, "I, Joseph, take you, Stephanie, to be my wife, to be the mother of our children, to be the companion of my heart. I promise to love you and to be true to you in good times and in bad all the days of my life."

God, please don't let me mess up. I want this to be perfect for Joe. For us. Please. I was in church, right? And prayers count double in church. My voice quavered a bit, because I was still teary-eyed, "I, Stephanie take you, Joseph, to be my husband, to be the father of our children, to be the companion of my heart. I promise to love you and to be true to you in good times and in bad all the days of my life."

Whew. Father DiMarco intoned, "You have declared your consent before the Church and this community of your family and friends. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you with His blessings. What God has joined together, let no one separate."

Again, the "Amen" thundered throughout the church. Say what you will about Catholics, but we've had lots of practice picking up on our cues, starting from an early age. Nobody wanted rulers on the knuckles from not paying attention, and therefore we were very vocal, and very timely, in church.

"Lord, bless and consecrate Joseph and Stephanie in their love and compassion for each other. May these rings be a symbol of true faith they share in each other and always remind them of their love and compassion. We ask this through Christ our Lord."

Like clockwork, another hearty Amen.

Oh, geez. The rings. I'd never make it through the rings without bawling like a baby. I sneaked a look at Joe, and realized he was fighting back tears of his own.

"Stephanie, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit." Joe slid the solid gold band onto my finger. Deceptively simple in brushed gold, our wedding rings had delicate rope designs running along each outer edge. Mine slid into place to nestle next to my engagement ring, and I fancifully wondered if the rings had missed being together as much as I had missed Joe during our time apart. Joe raised my hand to his lips, and pressed a gentle kiss on top of his rings that I was finally wearing. I could hear someone audibly sobbing in the background, then couldn't decide if it was Allie or me.

My throat was closed with pure emotion, and it was painful and almost impossible to force any sounds past the lump that lodged there. I had carried Joe's ring up the aisle with me, not trusting anyone else to carry it. It was my talisman that true love really can conquer all. It was my ring, and Joe's ring, and I didn't want anyone else's hands to touch it. "Joseph," I sobbed. "Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity," I drew a shaky breath as my tears continued to flow, "In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit."

The general intercessions and nuptial blessing washed over me without impact. I smiled up at Joe. Married. We were finally married. He reached up and brushed away the tears that were still drying on my cheek, and I turned my head and lightly kissed the palm of his hand. The priest continued to drone, but the important words had already been said.

The Lord's Prayer recited, the Solemn Blessing was pronounced, and Joe and I were finally presented to the assembled company as Mr. And Mrs. Joseph Morelli.

The priest intoned one last time, "Go in peace to love and serve the Lord, this marriage ceremony is complete."

A heartfelt "Thanks be to God," answered the congregation.

Joe took me in his arms, and devoured my mouth with his own. "Mine, finally mine," we both seemed to be breathing. Without a backward glance, Joe picked me up in his arms and strode back down the aisle and out the front door of the church, with Mooch and Lula hard pressed to keep up.

Joe lowered my feet to the church steps, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him with everything I had in me. He crushed me to him, and for a few stolen moments, we just stood there, locked in an embrace that was completely timeless. I felt the even ridge of his teeth as he smiled against my lips as our gathered friends and family began cheering and pelting us with rice, cameras clicking like crickets on a hot night. We shook hands and kissed papery cheeks, and accepted well wishes for fifteen or twenty minutes, then Sally whisked us off to the Explorer for the short drive to Rossini's for our family lunch. Sally was resplendent in a red satin dress of his own and dangly rhinestone earrings. "Go, before this mob riots, and I'll see you both back at the house after the christening. Last minute things to do, you know." With that, Sally blew a kiss. I wasn't sure if it was aimed at me or Joe.

Rossini's back banquet room was elegantly decked out with a single red rosebud in the center of each snow white tablecloth, and soft candle light from the tables softened the gray overcast shadows coming in from the November etched windows. We had wanted to keep lunch small and intimate, but with families the size of those in the Burg, intimate was a relative term. My parents, Grandma Mazur and her date, along with Valerie and Albert and the three girls represented the Plums. As my mother had once remarked, though, there had to be a hundred Morellis. We were limited this time to Joe's mom, Angie, and Grandma Bella, along with Joe's brothers, Tony and Paulie, and their wives and kids, and Joe's sisters Mary and Catherine, with their respective husbands and kids. I was pretty sure I could place the right spouse with the right Morelli, but the kids had me stumped. Add in the Naval contingent and things were starting to get crowded. We couldn't leave out the maid of honor or best man, so Lula and Tank were there along with Mooch and Shirley, and MaryLou and Lenny and their three kids rounded out everybody. Forty-five people constituted immediate family. I've known third world invasions that were more restrained.

The food was exquisite, and everyone was ebullient, buoyed up by the beautiful ceremony we had just finished. I alternated between playing with my rings under the table, and reaching for Joe's hand. I needed reassurance that all of this was finally real. Angie approached me between courses. "Aunt Stephanie, what were your things?"

My things? I must have looked as blank as I felt, because I totally had no idea what she was talking about. "Your something old and something new, something borrowed and something blue. You know. Your wedding things."

Ah. So typically Angie. She was eleven now, and I knew Valerie had taken her shopping for her first training bra a few months before. Sounded like hormones were starting to kick in, and Angie being the little manager she was wanted to make sure that every 'I' had been dotted and every 'T' crossed. "Well," I answered. My something borrowed were these pearl earrings from Grandma Mazur." I showed her the pearl and diamond studs that had been my grandmother's gift from her parents on her own wedding day. "My something new was this pearl necklace that Uncle Joe gave me last night at dinner. We'll give them to Sofi on her wedding day." Angie was nodding encouragement. It wasn't enough that I just have the four essential things, but I had to have reasons for having each of them that met with Angie's eleven year old, starry-eyed approval. "My something blue was this sapphire friendship ring Uncle Joe gave me a few years ago, and my something old was my engagement ring. Uncle Joe bought it for me a very long time ago, before I married for the first time." Angie closely examined my rings.

"But Aunt Stephanie," she said, "your rings are just alike—the blue one and the engagement ring. Except for the color."

"Yep," I agreed. "That's why I like them. Once your Uncle Joe finds something he likes, he sticks with it forever."

I turned to Joe and whispered, "Lucky me." I guess I didn't whisper quietly enough, because I heard Angie sigh audibly.

I looked over and Angie was looking at Joe like he hung the moon. "Good God," he muttered, as she skipped away, her head obviously still in the clouds.

"Hey," I said. "Angie could do a lot worse than to hold out for a guy as wonderful as her Uncle Joe."

"Yeah?" Joe looked pleased.

"Yeah." I leaned over and gave him what must be the three-hundredth kiss just today. He kissed me back, then stood and raised his glass. Joe smiled as the calls for a speech jokingly came at him from all over the room.

"I would like to thank you all for joining Stephanie and me on our wonderful day. It was a long time coming, but well worth the wait." Chuckles arose, and I felt myself blushing. Joe turned to me, with this glass still raised. "And thank you, Stephanie for becoming my wife, and for our beautiful daughter. Ti amo."

Assorted invasion wagons disgorged our collective army of invaders at the steps of the church on the dot of two o'clock. The entire Rossini contingent was there, of course, plus assorted aunts, uncles and cousins from both sides and including several removes. While not as packed as the wedding that morning, Sofi's christening was very well attended.

To be honest, I hadn't been particularly nervous about the wedding. Anxious and excited, yes, but not scared or nervous. Nervous I had reserved for the Sofi's christening. Not that anyone expected much of a baby at a baptism. You said some prayers, the priest did his priest thing, the godparents did their godparent thing, the baby got wet and howled. Everybody laughed.

Everybody.

It was this last part that was worrying me. Oh, I knew Sofi would survive just fine. To my knowledge, no baby has ever died from being baptized. Joe, I wasn't so sure about. Sofi was firmly convinced, in all her two and a half month old stubbornness, that her Daddy was the only reason the evil water monster didn't come and devour her every single night. Unfortunately, I was equally firmly convinced that she absorbed this so-called reasoning from Joe. On the few occasions when I'd had to bathe Sofi without him because he hadn't been home, he would look accusingly from me to her tearstained little face, then croon consolingly in her ear while he shot me daggers with his eyes. I was generally only forgiven when mealtime rolled around, and then it was Sofi who caved, not Joe. If he could have figured out how to lactate on demand, I don't think he would relinquish his poor little picked-upon daughter to her Mean Momma even then, but Sofi could be pretty insistent.

My mother came up behind me and put an arm around my shoulder in a one-armed hug. "He dotes on her," motioning to Joe who was swaying gently with Sofi in his arms, the lace edge of her christening dress arranged just so over the arm of his tuxedo, courtesy of Joe's mom.

"Yeah, I know." I didn't sound as pleased as I knew I should by the prospect, I could tell from the strange look my mother shot me. I tried to smile, but it came out lopsided. My mom didn't have to worry about trying to keep Joe from shooting Father DiMarco when said priest made Princess Sofi cry by pouring water on her head, or worse, physically restrain him from jumping into the baptismal font along with her. I let out a nervous giggle at the thought of a naked Joe in the baptismal font, then quickly crossed myself before God struck me dead for thinking carnal thoughts in church.

We moved into place around the font, and I wrapped both arms around Joe's waist as tight as I could while Remy took charge of Sofi. I "accidentally" stood with both of my feet on his right foot, hoping to give Father DiMarco a running start if things got ugly. I had also clued in the "dress whites". Remy had muttered something that started out French and ended up with "fucking bullet proof vest". Tex and Tyrone had laughed till their sides hurt, then agreed to stand just behind Joe, one stationed on either side of him to stop him if he started taking off his clothes. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was the best I could do.

Father DiMarco moved into position, and MaryLou and Remy supported Sofi's small body over the basin. Father DiMarco lifted the silver chalice, and I heard Joe draw in his breath sharply.

"Breathe, honey. It will be over in a minute. She'll be fine." Joe's face got pale, and he turned huge, panic-stricken eyes on his baby girl. Remy tried to smile at him reassuringly while holding on to a squirmy Sofi. She could probably smell the water. Joe swiveled his head, and looked at me like I had lost my mind. "Breathe, Joe."

"Sofia Josette Morelli, I baptize thee in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost." Thank God Albert Kloughn had hand carried all the necessary papers from one legal department to the next over this past week. We had completely forgotten that Sofi's birth certificate didn't match the name we wanted her christened by until it was almost too late to get the birth certificate amended. Albert had received our effusive thanks, and Valerie had preened and beamed with pride that her own Albert had saved the day.

Father DiMarco made the sign of the cross three times on Sofi's forehead. Then he tipped the silver chalice and the holy water began to slowly trickle over Sofi's head. Sofi drew in her breath to let out a yowl, and I felt Joe's muscles tense under my hands. "Joe, you take off so much as a shoe and head toward that font and I'll nail your nuts to the church door and make you a Lutheran." I guess I spoke louder than I meant to, because there were several audible guffaws in the audience and Remy's shoulders began to shake.

Father DiMarco paused and looked over at me. I tried to smile reassuringly and gave him a little finger wave. The corners of Joe's mouth were starting to turn up just the slightest bit. Thank God. After what seemed like an eternity, Father DiMarco placed the white veil on Sofi's head. "Receive this white garment, which may thou carry without stain before the judgment seat of Our Lord Jesus Christ that thou may have eternal life. Amen."

Remy held a single lighted candle, leaving MaryLou to deal with a truly irate Sofi all by herself. Luckily MaryLou has good mom instincts and years of practice, because Sofi was decidedly unhappy. In her little mind, her Daddy had deserted her in her hour of need, and now she had a wet head and it was all somebody's fault. Her volume level led us to believe she would hunt down the miscreant and deal harshly with him. Well, except she was starting to get tired. And Aunt MaryLou really knew how to do this rocking, cuddling thing. Well, okay, maybe the world wasn't going to end right this very minute, but she reserved the right to restart the siren at any time. Just because she was snuffling now and going to sleep didn't mean this was over….

"Receive this burning light, and keep thy baptism so as to be without blame. Observe the commandments of God; that, when Our Lord shall come to His nuptials, thou may meet Him together with all the Saints and may have life ever lasting, and live forever and ever. Amen."

I don't think I had ever said a more heartfelt amen in my life. I slowly removed my shoes from Joe's feet and he dared to send me an innocent look like I was overreacting. Yeah, right. I had firsthand knowledge of just how fast he could get himself naked and into the water with Sofi. While Grandma Mazur would have undoubtedly enjoyed the show, I wasn't so sure about the rest of the family.

I breathed a big sigh of relief. Okay. Joe and I were man and wife in the eyes of God and the Holy Mother Church, and Sofi was officially Catholic. Stick a fork in me, because I am done. Time to party!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: This chapter contains two sets of lyrics—Peter Cetera's "After All" and Heartland's "I Loved Her First." I am not profiting by their use in any way shape or form.

It was nearly 5:00 when we finally pulled up to our row house on Slater Street, and coming on full dark. You could tell which house was ours from blocks away, and I gasped at the sight. Sally had turned our modest home into a magical place. White fairly lights climbed along the walkway and over the door. "Wow," said Joe. Every light in the house was on, and candles gleamed in the windows. When we got inside, we saw that Sally had moved out most of the furniture in the living room, and the dining room and kitchen were both set with elaborate buffet offerings. The beautiful five-tiered Tasty Pastry cake reigned supreme on the dining room sideboard. We hurried out the kitchen door to find an elaborate tent covering the entire back yard, complete with a hardwood dance floor and small tables and chairs set around the edges. Sally himself was enthroned behind an elaborate sound system in the corner, still wearing the red satin dress, and looking absolutely radiant.

"Sally, I don't know what to say! This is magical." I beamed at him, and he seemed pretty pleased with himself.

"What did you do with the furniture?" asked Joe, ever the male pragmatist.

"Whatever didn't fit in the cellar, Ranger's guys took over to your neighbor's garage." Sally explained. Joe noticed a contingent of the "Men in Black" arranging chairs and hooking up speaker wire across the room. He grunted noncommittally.

I hurried over to speak with the guys I had worked with for so long. "I can't believe you guys did all this. Thank you so much." I started to tear up, and Tank started to look at his feet. Hal just blinked at me, wires still dangling from his hands. Woody and Lester smiled and looked embarrassed.

Bobby finally answered me and said, "We were glad to do it, Stephanie. Congratulations, and be happy."

"Thanks," I sniffled, then I hugged him hard. Hugging was apparently something the Merry Men could appreciate because they all waited their turn, then hugged me and wished me well. Finally, I looked over Tank's shoulder, which wouldn't have been easy under ordinary circumstances, but he had picked me up in a bear hug and my feet were dangling off the floor. I saw Ranger standing in the shadows of the far corner, wearing just a hint of a smile. "Thank you," I mouthed to him. He inclined his head incrementally, and I knew we were going to be okay.

"This really means a lot to me," I said to the guys as I tried to hold all their hands at once. They beamed, and too late I realized that they weren't so much beaming at me as smirking over my shoulder. When I wasn't looking, the Armada had arrived behind me. Navy was one up on the Army for attendance at the christening, but Army had pulled it out in the fourth quarter by setting up the reception. Both teams were jockeying at the scrimmage line, and testosterone was so thick you could cut it with a cake knife. Movement in the backfield. My mother came to the doorway with Sofi squalling fit to wake the dead. "I think she's hungry," my mother shouted over the top of Sofi's howls. I quickly took Sofi and retreated to the bench, that is to say, I went upstairs and hid in the bedroom. If there was going to be a full-on scrimmage in the backyard tent during my wedding reception, I decided I didn't want to know about it.

I took my time feeding Sofi, and changing her into another frilly dress; shorter this time so her perfect little knees showed, and her tiny white patent leather shoes and lacy socks. I finished her off with a silky white bow on the top of her head, and she looked like an absolute doll. "Oh, Sofi," I told her. "You look so beautiful! No wonder your Daddy thinks you're a princess." Just then Joe peeked in and knocked with a single knuckle on the door.

"Hey, how are my girls? Our guests are here, Cupcake."

I picked up Sofi, then took Joe's arm with my empty hand, and we walked to the head of the stairs. A roomful of people greeted us with applause as we came down the stairs, and I quickly handed Sofi off to Joe's mother so Joe and I could greet our guests. As arranged with Sally, we worked our way slowly out of the room and back to the tent, where there were still more people. Just as we got to the doorway, Sally announced, "Appearing for the first time as husband and wife, please welcome Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Morelli for their first dance as a married couple." Sally tuned up the sound system, and the strains of Peter Cetera's "After All" drifted over the top of the crowd.

I stopped dumbstuck. How had Sally known? That song had been wildly popular when Joe and I were in high school, and I had spent more than a little time daydreaming about Joe while listening to this song on the radio, especially that last summer before he left for the Navy. Joe swept me into his arms, and we began to sway to the music that told our story so well:

_Well, here we are again;  
I guess it must be fate.  
We've tried it on our own,  
But deep inside we've known  
We'd be back to set things straight._

I smiled up at Joe and tried to remember how many times we'd been on again and off again. How much jockeying for position had we done over the years? I'd chased him with my father's Buick, and with his own Jeep Cherokee when he was failure to appear. And I guess he could say he'd chased me till I caught him.

_I still remember when  
Your kiss was so brand new.  
Every memory repeats,  
Every step I take retreats,  
Every journey always brings me back to you._

"So many first times," Joe whispered in my ear. "You remember?" I just nodded my head and smiled at him, totally lost in the warmth of his eyes. Joe gathered me even closer to him, and we slowly circled the dance floor.

_After all the stops and starts,  
We keep coming back to these two hearts,  
Two angels who've been rescued from the fall.  
After all that we've been through,  
It all comes down to me and you.  
I guess it's meant to be,  
Forever; you and me, after all._

What a truly wonderful life's journey we'd embarked on today. We'd taken an old love and were building a whole new life. I wrapped both arms around Joe's neck, and buried my face on his shoulder. I could feel nobody but him, see nobody but him, love nobody but him. I couldn't get close enough. Joe wrapped me in his arms, holding me just as tightly as I was holding him. We'd given up any semblance of dancing, and just swayed slightly in each other's arms.

_When love is truly right  
This time it's truly right  
It lives from year to year.  
It changes as it goes,  
Oh, and on the way it grows,  
But it never disappears._

I had almost lost Joe's love, and the idea of losing someone so vital to my very essence rocked me to my core. Joe sensed the change in my breathing, and just leaned down slightly and caught my mouth in a sweet kiss. We had come so far, and we were together. Nothing else mattered.

Eventually the music wound down and we stepped apart. Joe brought my hands to his lips one last time, and kissed my fingertips, which drew a collective sigh from all the women. I probably looked like the cat who stole the cream. Joe was my dream, and he finally belonged to me, and me to him.

My father approached me as Joe and I separated. "I think the next dance is mine, sweetheart."

"Sure, Daddy." I watched Joe walk over and take Sofi from his mother, and turn her around so she could see Momma dancing with her Poppa. I had never heard the song before, but as I slowly circled the dance floor in my father's arms, I silently blessed Sally Sweet. My dad smiled down at me, then kissed me on my forehead. "Be happy, Stephanie."

"I am, Daddy."

"I know. I always knew you would be. You and Joe were meant for each other."

_Look at the two of you dancing that way  
Lost in the moment and each others face  
So much in love you're alone in this place  
Like there's nobody else in the world  
I was enough for her not long ago  
I was her number one  
She told me so  
And she still means the world to me  
Just so you know  
So be careful when you hold my girl  
Time changes everything  
Life must go on  
And I'm not gonna stand in your way_

But I loved her first and I held her first  
And a place in my heart will always be hers  
From the first breath she breathed  
When she first smiled at me  
I knew the love of a father runs deep  
And I prayed that she'd find you someday  
But it still hard to give her away  
I loved her first

I looked up and saw tears in my father's eyes, then looked over and saw Joe swaying with Sofi, and tears were pooled in his eyes as well.

_  
How could that beautiful women with you  
Be the same freckle face kid that I knew  
The one that I read all those fairy tales to  
And tucked into bed all those nights  
And I knew the first time I saw you with her  
It was only a matter of time_

But I loved her first and I held her first  
And a place in my heart will always be hers

_From the first breath she breathed  
When she first smiled at me  
I knew the love of a father runs deep  
Someday you might know what I'm going through  
When a miracle smiles up at you  
I loved her first_

Joe met us on the dance floor, and hugged my father as he handed him Sofi. My father's voice was gruff with unshed tears. "Be good to my girl," was all he said.

"I will, sir," Joe replied in all solemnity. I found myself wishing that Joe's father could have lived to see the man he'd grown into. I knew a lot of bad things about "Old Man Morelli," but today was a day for forgiveness and new beginnings. And I had to think that there had to be at least some small part of Joe's father that was good for Joe to be who and what he was. I also knew someone else who would be missing Joe's father today.

No matter how many bad things people said about Mr. Morelli, everyone agreed that Angie Morelli had loved him beyond reason. I sent Joe of to dance with his mother, and went to greet more of our guests. Lula had managed to coax Tank out onto the dance floor, and they seemed to be having a good time. I made a mental note to aim my bedraggled roses right at Lula when it came time to toss the bouquet. Not sure what Tank would make of that, but Lula deserved to be happy, and Tank made Lula happy. That was good enough for me.

Tex and Allie had joined the dancing crowd, as had Tyrone and LaDawna. We had hooked up a video game console in the guest room for Tyrell and Dante, and hoped for the best. Lexy, older than her years, had stationed herself in the living room at the bottom of the stairs in case her "cousins" made a break for it. Tony's oldest, Dominick, was 16, and seemed to be taking quite an interest in keeping Lexy company. Since Dominick was the image of both Tony and Joe as teenagers, I knew Lexy would have sweet dreams to keep her company on the long ride home to Newark tonight. I watched her long blonde hair fall forward over her face as she smiled at something Dominick had said, and she brushed it back out of the way. Dominick seemed transfixed at the movement of her hair, and I smiled. They were close to the same age Joe and I had been when I first decided the sun rose and set on Joe Morelli. Intervening years had wisened me up a bit, but there's nothing quite as innocent as first love.

MaryLou was in the kitchen, and I tried to shoo her out onto the dance floor with Lenny, but she wouldn't budge. Just then, I noticed Lenny in the corner behind the refrigerator, and deduced that MaryLou and Lenny could probably figure things out just fine on their own. Connie barreled around the corner just then, and grabbed my arm. "Who is he?" she hissed.

I didn't even bother to see who she meant. If Joe and Ranger turned female heads when they walked in a room, Remy was in a class by himself. Add in the dress whites, and there was only one man that any single woman would be asking about. "Remy Charbonneau, old Navy friend of Joe's." I answered.

"Is he single?" Connie breathed.

"Perpetually," I replied. "Come on, I'll introduce you. But don't get too worked up. Long term things could get difficult."

"Difficult how?" Connie wanted to know.

"He's an FBI agent." Connie considered this for a few minutes, and I could see her mentally sorting through the collection of wanted posters that features her relatives.

"Family's overrated anyhow. Introduce me."

Connie had to go check her makeup, then she had to fluff her hair. She came out of the powder room surrounded by a cloud of hairspray, and I sincerely hoped that Remy didn't have any respiratory allergies. I hoped the fan Joe installed was working properly, because otherwise we'd be smelling Connie's hairspray for a week. Connie was dressed in a cross between Jersey girl and Lula. Her assets, both top and bottom were shown to best advantage in a tight-fitting two piece blue knit dress, and a narrow band of perfectly toned and impossibly tiny waist made her look even more like Betty Boop than usual. The requisite makeup was applied in astronomical proportions, and her hair would stand up to a force five hurricane. Her blood red nails were perfectly manicured, and matched the fuck me red on her lips, and I deduced she was ready. She tottered after me on 4" heels, and I figured this would either make or break Remy. If he liked Jersey, he'd love Connie, and if Jersey wasn't for him, well, then Connie didn't have a prayer.

"Hey, Remy," it was a lot easier to approach the most gorgeous man in the room when you were safely married to one of his best friends. I had learned I could tease and flirt with Remy easily, and neither of us got the wrong idea. He knew Joe and I were devoted to each other, so our banter was strictly on the surface, but covered a true growing friendship and respect.

"Soeur, you finally come to your senses and gonna run away with me now? I tell you, my heart is breaking." I grinned at Remy's exaggerated accent. I had noticed the accent tended to grow with the proximity of attractive women, so maybe Remy did Jersey after all.

"Remy, I wanted you to meet my old friend Connie Rosolli. Connie, this is Remy Charbonneau, Sofi's godfather." I stood back and watched them take stock of each other.

"Charmed, Connie," drawled Remy, as his light blue eyes did a rapid evaluation of Connie's charms.

Connie stuck out her chest a little further, completely annihilating the laws of physics, and smiled enticingly up at Remy. Connie's a few inches shorter than I am, and Remy's got a couple of inches on Joe. I knew what was coming next, just because I knew Joe and his friends. Sure enough, he snuck a quick peek down the front of Connie's top where her black lacy Victoria's Secret bra was under considerable strain keeping Connie's assets properly aligned. Connie, of course, was doing her part to make sure he had a clear view. Remy snuck a quick peek at Connie's considerable backside, and his eyes rounded appreciatively. Okay, then. Remy liked big boobs and a big caboose. Connie was good to go.

I melted into the background, and hooked back up with Joe, who was talking to his brothers on the other side of the room. I didn't know Tony or Paulie well, since they were both several years older than Joe. Tony was the oldest, then Paulie, then the girls, and Joe was the baby. Joe has some kind of internal radar where I'm concerned because he turned and reached his arm out toward me when I was still halfway across the floor. I moved easily into his embrace, and turned expectantly to his brothers. They teased me briefly about gaining a baby sister, which is funny since that's what Remy had dubbed me as well. I'd never had brothers, so this was a whole new experience for me. I knew that Joe and Tony were pretty tight, but he didn't talk as much about Paulie. I kind of tended to follow Joe's lead with his family since he had known them a lot longer and better than I did. The odds of all three Morelli brothers avoiding the Morelli triple curse of womanizing, alcoholism, and wifebeating would be astronomical, but Angie Morelli was a pretty formidable woman. If anyone could manage to keep the Morelli brothers in line, I couldn't imagine a more likely candidate than Joe's mom.

Joe pulled me aside and nodded his head toward the exit. I could see Remy's hand on the small of Connie's back as he guided her up the stairs. Connie turned and flashed me a brilliant smile and a small wave as she left. "So what's going on there?" Joe asked quietly.

I answered his question with a question, "Do you think Connie's Remy's type?"

"She's breathing."

I punched him on the shoulder, and not too gently. "Ow! Okay, okay." Joe eyed them assessingly for a minute then shrugged. "Remy likes a handful in front and behind, so yeah, I think Connie's probably just what he likes. Does she know he's with the FBI?"

"I told her. She wanted to meet him anyway."

"Should be interesting," remarked Joe.

"What were you talking to your brothers about?" I asked idly. It didn't really matter, but Joe's face got tense. I turned my head slightly to the side in inquiry, then gently smoothed his jacket over his shoulders. Whatever it was, wasn't worth having Joe tense on our wedding day.

Joe just kind of shook his head. "Tony was giving me marital advice. Which wouldn't be a bad thing. He's been married almost 20 years, and he loves his wife. He was about half in the bag, which is typical for Tony, but the rest was okay. Paulie…" he broke off. "Paulie's 'advice' isn't nearly as welcome. Like I told you before, Morellis don't divorce, but I don't know why Paulie's wife stays with him. He never met a skirt he didn't chase. I don't think he hits her, but the cheating is just as bad, you know?" I nodded. "I'm me, Stephanie. Not my family."

"I know that, Joe." I smiled at him. "You're not your father, and you're not your brothers, but you are all mine."

Joe seemed to shake off his melancholy mood. "I've got a great idea."

"Does it involve sex?"

"Of course."

"Why did I even bother to ask?" I laughed out loud. "What is your great idea, Mr. Morelli?"

Joe whispered a few naughty suggestions in my ear, which made me blush and laugh, but were definitely not feasible given the number of people still in the house. "Okay, how about this. How about we go into the kitchen and cut the cake. Then we beat a hasty retreat out the front door and head for Point Pleasant."

"Point Pleasant in November for a honeymoon?" I looked at him askance. I realized we hadn't had a lot of time for preparation, but….

"I thought you liked the Jersey shore in November." He grinned at me and reminded me of our stay at Point Pleasant the first weekend I'd been home from Boston. My nipples hardened like ball bearings.

"I do. Keep talking."

"Well, I thought tonight at one of the waterfront hotels in a jacuzzi suite. We'll have a double size jacuzzi tub, a king size bed, a fireplace and room service. Who the hell cares what the weather does?"

"I like it."

"And to be honest, I didn't really want to leave Sofi for too long when she's so little."

Oh, God. I'd forgotten my own daughter. On one level I knew Sofi wouldn't be with us on our wedding night, but I hadn't even thought for a minute about an extended honeymoon. The honeymoon part would be great, but Joe was right. There was no way we could leave Sofi that long. I nodded vigorously in agreement. I don't want to leave Sofi for too long either.

"And we have all the holidays coming up; Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years' and all the parties and things that go along with that. Our first holidays as a family, you know?" I nodded again. "So I thought maybe a cruise along about February would be just about right for an extended honeymoon. Sofi won't be so little, the sun in the Caribbean will be fabulous, I'll teach you how to dive. White sandy beaches. Five star dining. Dancing under the stars. What do you think?"

"I think it sounds perfect. And I think we should go cut that damn cake and get straight to the jacuzzi."

"You got it, Cupcake."

As I knew from past experience, Joe could really move through crowds. His elbows weren't exactly clearing a path, but nobody was standing in his way, either. In less than a minute, we were standing behind the cake with the serving knife raised. We smiled for the photographer for what seemed like the ten thousandth time that day, and made quick work of cutting the cake. Joe managed to get my piece of cake in my mouth without making a mess, but I left a smear of buttercream frosting on his lower lip. Unable to resist, I kissed it off, and the flashbulbs popped some more.

I said a quick goodbye to my parents and Grandma Mazur, and made sure they had a key to the house in case there was anything they needed for Sofi that I hadn't remembered when I packed. Joe and I made a mad dash through still more rice to reach the Explorer. Someone pressed my bedraggled bouquet into my hands, and my eyes sought out Lula standing on the walk, surrounded by a thousand fairy lights. I lobbed the bouquet directly into her arms before the rest of the single women could even gather. There were some disappointed groans, but Lula looked radiant.

Joe was even less subtle than I was. He peeled the garter down my calf, then walked straight over to Tank and stuck the garter in the breast pocket of his suit. Joe patted the garter in place a couple of times, said something to Tank that I couldn't hear, and shook his hand.


	11. Chapter 11

The Explorer was covered in painted well wishes, with what seemed like miles of cans trailing behind us. I gave a start at the condom balloons hanging from the radio antenna and the windshield wipers. I realized way too late that Joe and I hadn't even talked about birth control in the nearly three weeks I'd been home. Oh, well. Too late now.

Joe helped me up on the seat of the Explorer, we waved our family and friends goodbye, then Joe set a new land speed record for reaching the hotel at Point Pleasant.

We pulled up under the canopy outside the hotel office. Joe gave me a quick, searing kiss before opening his door. "Wait here," he said.

"No way," I replied, as I jumped down from the seat of the Explorer. He gave me a puzzled look. I grabbed his hand with both of mine and smiled up into his eyes. "If I go in, I bet they'll call me 'Mrs. Morelli.'" I sighed happily, and swung our hands back and forth as we walked, not even caring that I might sound silly.

"So you like being Mrs. Morelli, huh?" Somehow Joe stood a little taller, and his walk developed a more pronounced strut.

I couldn't resist teasing him. "So far. I'll let you know for sure in the morning…." We both laughed, and Joe swatted my ass as he opened the lobby door. His hand settled in the small of my back in a subtly possessive gesture that I decided I could definitely get used to. Joe settled into the business of getting us checked into the hotel, and I preened when the night clerk addressed us as Mr. and Mrs. Morelli. I just couldn't help myself. Joe was trying to hide his amusement, but I kept my self-satisfied grin pinned firmly in place. I didn't think I could stop smiling if I tried, so I didn't even bother to try.

We made our way sedately to the elevator, but when the doors closed behind us, Joe surprised me by sweeping me up in his arms. "Gotta make sure we observe all the formalities, Cupcake." I laughed as he carried me down the hallway and to our room. We fumbled the card key for a bit, but Joe was determined that my feet wouldn't touch the ground until I was officially over the "threshold". I looked around the room, wanting to commit to memory every detail of our first wedding night. Small bathroom off to the right, utilitarian and plain. Coffeemaker and hair dryer readily accessible. I smiled, knowing how essential these two items would be in the morning. The room itself was nice, if nondescript. Muted beiges and greens seemed to be the order of the day, adorning a king-sized bed in the middle of the room. Floor to ceiling windows on the far side of the room, hidden behind heavy drapes. A gas fireplace in one corner had possibilities, and the opposite corner on the window wall held a large jacuzzi tub, the tub wall partially mirrored, the other side open to the window's ocean view. Joe's hands settled on my shoulders, and he absently kissed the side of my neck. "Why don't you take the bathroom first, and I'll go down and get our luggage?"

I thought of the new stash of Victoria's Secret lingerie I had carefully stowed in my overnight bag, and smiled contentedly to myself. "Okay," I replied, but my mind was already jumping ahead to later tonight. I imagined Joe's eyes darkening with passion when he saw the sheer silk and lace confection I had picked out for our wedding night. I took my time in the bathroom, then carefully rearranged my hair into something less formal; I wound up with a huge cloud of dark curls surrounding my head and decided Joe would be pleased. After carefully retouching my makeup to ensure I looked my very best, I opened the bathroom door a crack and pushed my hand through the opening. "Overnight bag, please," I called. I was determined that Joe get the full effect of my evening's preparations all at once. I felt the strap of my bag land across my outstretched palm and quickly pulled the bag inside the bathroom. I carefully unrolled a pair of black silk stockings over my freshly-shaved legs. I knew I wouldn't wear them for long, but that didn't matter. I didn't expect to wear ANY of it for long, but my goal was to knock Joe sideways with lust at first sight.

I settled my new black silk thong in place. Much as I disliked ass-floss, I knew the tiny strip of lace adorning the top of my ass and the silky triangle containing my sex would drive Joe wild. I meticulously attached the black lace garter belt to the tops of my stockings next, then made sure the black lace showed off the milky whiteness of my skin the way I wanted. I finally settled a spaghetti strapped confection of silk and lace from my shoulders. The transparent silk made no effort to hide my breasts, but shifting shadows made what was partially hidden even more seductive. Giving myself a last spritz of my favorite perfume, I opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the room.

I gasped in wonder. While I had been busy in the bathroom, Joe had obviously been busy as well. The curtains had been opened completely, and the huge golden crescent moon hung suspended over an inky sea that sparkled with the reflection of thousands of stars. The fireplace was lit and sending a golden glow over the room. Joe had turned off the lights, but every flat surface was covered with pillared candles. The points of light from the profusion of candles echoed the starlight outside, turning the room from an unremarkable generic space into a fairyland of light. The tub in the corner had been filled, and was happily churning mounds of scented bubbles on the surface. The bed had been turned down, and red rose petals were sprinkled on the white sheets. A beautiful bouquet of roses sat on the nightstand next to an ice bucket that nestled a bottle of champagne. A small crystal dish of fine chocolates and strawberries sat on the edge of the tub. "Wow," I breathed.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Joe's voice was husky and deep with longing. He turned from the fireplace and I saw he was holding two flutes of champagne. He had removed his tuxedo jacket and tie, along with his shoes and socks. The firelight was glinting off his hair and his eyes were wide with desire. His pleated white shirt was open at the neck, showing the dark column of his throat to advantage, and just a peek of the fine dark hair that adorned his chest. The formal black trousers fit him to perfection, and as he walked toward me, my breath caught in my throat. If Joe had been beautiful in formal attire earlier in the day, it was nothing compared to Joe now. His clothing may have been more relaxed, but sexual tension still coiled in him tight as a spring. Joe handed me a glass of champagne, then tilted his glass against mine.

"To us," I said.

"And to the rest of our lives," Joe replied.

I felt the champagne bubbles tickle my nose, then hit the back of my throat, to finally land in a warm fire in the pit of my belly. I watched Joe knock back his entire glass of champagne, then nervously sipped again at my own. I can't count the number of times I've made love with Joe. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes frantic. He'd been in and out of my bed and my fantasies since I was sixteen years old, but somehow tonight was different. God help me, but I was nervous. In all those couplings over all those years, Joe had never been my husband before. I purposely pushed aside all thoughts of Dickie and my first wedding night. I had never felt about Dickie the way I did Joe, and my first wedding night had been an infinitely forgettable mish-mash of too much alcohol and unrealized expectations. Tonight, for the very first time in my life and despite my far from virgin state, I felt like a bride.

I nervously swallowed the rest of my champagne, and Joe set down both our glasses without ever taking his eyes from me. He buried his hands in the mass of my hair, then kissed me very deliberately, slowly, as if he were committing every cell of my mouth to memory. "Happy wedding night," he finally said, his lips still touching mine. I smiled against his mouth.

He pulled back, then slowly dropped the spaghetti strap from one of my shoulders, then the other. The garter belt fell to the floor next, then he gently unrolled the stockings from my legs, and finally divested me of my black silk thong. "Beautiful," he murmured against the side of my hip.

Joe stood, and I took advantage of the opportunity to finish unbuttoning his shirt. I slipped it down, exposing the expanse of his warm, brown shoulders. I heard Joe's breath catch as I lowered my hands and began to unbuckle his belt. I moved in closer and felt the warm, hard length of his erection as I dropped his trousers and boxers in one motion. His breathing grew ragged as he pulled me full against him. Despite his obvious arousal, the kiss started slow and soft as butterfly wings, then grew in intensity, slowly building to a burning climax that left us both breathless. Joe rested his forehead against mine, and I could see him struggling to regain his lost composure.

Without saying another word, Joe took me by the hand and led me to the bubbling tub. I didn't know quite what Joe was thinking, but I was more than willing to go along with whatever he had in mind. I sank slowly below the surface and felt the warm water envelope me from my toes to my shoulders. Joe leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "Just think of it as one big shower massage, Cupcake." I laughed softly. Only Joe. Nobody else could manage to get me completely turned on while simultaneously laughing. This man knew me like no other.

"I like the way your mind works," I said. I said it jokingly, but I also meant it.

"Even when I'm a sex fiend?" Joe quirked his trademark eyebrow at me, and gave me the slow grin.

"_Especially_ when you're a sex fiend." This time it was Joe's turn to laugh, then he kissed me thoroughly through our mutual laughter. Joe's warm body slid into the water next to me, and the feel of our bodies intertwined and buoyed by the lapping bubbles was almost enough to send me straight to an orgasm right there.

"Just lie back and enjoy," Joe whispered. He purposely moved back and slowed things down. He had obviously put a lot of thought and planning into this night, and I wasn't about to argue with him. I felt Joe's strong hands capture my foot beneath the churning water. He drew my lower leg up out of the water, and began to slowly lave every inch of my foot and calf with smooth, slippery soap. He kneaded every muscle, and slid his fingers over every inch of my skin, finally digging his thumbs deep into the sole of my foot to powerfully massage the day's aches and pains away. When he finished, he lavished the same treatment on the opposite leg and began to work his way upward. I had no idea my knees or the backs of my thighs were so sensitive, yet everywhere that Joe's hands wandered licked a small heated flame. As he began to stroke the juncture of my thighs, he leaned forward and whispered, "I always promised myself when we got to the wedding night that I would make sure I touched every single inch of your body. My hands. Only my hands will touch you, Stephanie."

"Yeeeesssss," I groaned. His fingers splayed up my back, alternately kneading the muscles and smoothing the skin with feather light touches. He lavished attention on my breasts and belly, then slowly worked his magic across my shoulders and down my arms. He twined his fingers with mine and performed the same magical massage on my hands that he had on my feet. By this time, I was starting to think I would float away completely. My body thrummed with sexual tension, but Joe methodically ran his fingers up the back of my neck and into my scalp. He gently ran his fingers over the planes of my face, memorizing every detail before moving on to the sensitive spot behind my ears. I never knew the skin behind my ears was particularly sensitive, but Joe had me moaning.

Warm water began slowly trickling through my hair, and my eyes shot open. Joe was holding a small pitcher over my head, being careful to keep all the water out of my face. "Shhh. Relax, Cupcake. Are you enjoying?"

Saying actual words was beyond my current capacity, but I must have made some sort of noise that sounded vaguely affirmative, because I heard Joe chuckle quietly as he lathered my hair. He slowly massaged my scalp and ran his fingers gently through my hair. I didn't know if I would ever be able to go back to Mr. Alexander for a hair wash again after this. Joe's idea of a bath was far beyond erotic. His concentrated assault on all the parts of my body had ensnared my senses in a completely new way.

After he rinsed the last of the suds from my hair, Joe turned off the jacuzzi jets, and helped me stand on wobbly legs. I was at once completely relaxed and humming with desire. Joe wrapped me in a terry cloth robe, and began drying my hair with a thick soft towel as we sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. I moved to take it from him since I know what a formidable job it can be to tame my mane. Joe gently but firmly moved my hands away, and kept gently rubbing the water from my hair. He picked up a comb and began to work out the snarls. Patiently, inch by inch, just as promised, Joe combed through my hair until it lay dark and smooth around my shoulders. He rose in one smooth movement, like a cat and reached a hand down toward me. I would have followed him anywhere.

He led me only to the bed and laid me down atop the rose petals. "Finally," I thought, and reached for him. Joe kissed my fingers, then laid my hands quietly at my side. Apparently he wasn't finished yet. He reached instead for a bottle of lotion in the same scent as my usual perfume. Conversationally, Joe said, "You know, when you were gone, sometimes I would stand in my closet. If it was a good day, I could still smell your perfume. I used to run my hands through your hair in the mornings, and I could still smell you at lunchtime on my fingers. When you weren't in my bed, I could bury my face in the pillows and still catch a scent of you." He slowly began to repeat his ministrations of the tub, beginning with his strong, warm hands slicked with lotion caressing my feet, and ending with a slow exploration of my face, and not a single inch of my body neglected in between. I reached for him and worked a soul-searing kiss on the inner recesses of his mouth. I was desperate for the feel of his body moving against mine and couldn't wait any longer.

With a sigh of contentment, Joe slid home, into the deep recesses of my body and soul. He began to move inside me, and I was struck by the profound _rightness_ of this moment, this man. As I finally made love with my husband for the very first time, I knew that somehow this was what we had both been made for. I smiled in exhilaration as our bodies writhed together in a familiar quest for that final cresting wave of euphoria that we could ride to earth together.

Time seemed to stand still for us on that night. I lost count of how many times we made love. Sometimes it was soft and deliberate, like that first time, and later it was primal and fierce. One time we could be as gentle as soft breezes, and the next be clawing and scratching unable to get deep enough, hard enough, long enough. We finally fell into an exhausted sleep sometime around daybreak, arms and legs entwined, Joe still half-hard and buried inside me.

I woke slowly the next morning, and stretched through the pleasant residual aches of being well-loved. Joe's head was still pillowed on my bare breasts, and I reveled in the luxurious feel of his thick soft hair as I wound my fingers through the inky waves. I smiled to myself at his very masculine if sleepy groan of contentment. He nuzzled closer then rolled over so that I was resting on his chest and our legs were hopelessly entwined. I couldn't quite wrap my sleep-fuzzed mind around where he started and I ended, but decided that it really didn't much matter.

"Still like being Mrs. Morelli?" I loved hearing Joe's voice rumble under my ear when I lay sprawled over the wall of his chest. Yet another plus for being married to Joe. I thought back over the previous night. At one memorable point, Joe had decided that he needed to taste everywhere his hands had traveled. The mirror above the jacuzzi had been put to good use watching Joe move in and out of my body. My breathing became ragged as I lay there and contemplated the magical night just past. I could feel the blood and heat pooling between my legs, but luckily Joe was stirring as well. I levered myself the rest of the way on top of him and impaled myself in one smooth stroke.

"I love being Mrs. Morelli. The fringe benefits are awesome." I established a steady rhythm and began to elaborate on all the things I loved about being married so far. I went on with some suggestions that we might try at a later time, and Joe made appreciative noises. Another good thing about Joe—he was so incredibly comfortable with his own sexuality that he was always open to trying new adventures, and that made me more comfortable with being adventurous myself.

As I lay there replete, I wondered how to broach the subject of not being able to live on love. Making love was awesome, but yesterday had been so busy I'd hardly eaten a thing. Coupled with our activity level over the course of the previous night, I was starving.

"Cupcake?"

"Mmmm?"

"I love having an insatiable wife. But I need food, and your stomach is growling so loud it's drowning out the sound of the storm." Sure enough, storm clouds had rolled in over night, and the ocean was putting on a spectacular show right outside our window. Hunh. Go figure. I hadn't even noticed.

"Stephanie?"

"Yeah?"

"If you get off me, I can call room service."

"You're so picky!" I kissed him lightly, rolled off and headed for the bathroom before he could get there first. I heard him chuckle behind me as I shut the door, but I also heard the sound of the telephone receiver leaving the cradle. Thus reassured, I took my time in the shower. Just as I was finished washing my hair, Joe extended a cup of hot coffee behind the shower curtain.

"You don't get anything else until you come out. Come on. The storm's fabulous, and I refilled the tub." Oh, hell yes. Without stopping for a towel, I quickly turned off the shower, racked back the shower curtain, and strode dripping wet right past Joe and climbed right into the warm jets of the jacuzzi. I quirked an eyebrow at Joe who had stopped cold and was staring at me in bemusement. He recovered quickly and smiled as he wheeled our room service cart over next to the jacuzzi for easy access. Joe had ordered a veritable feast, and we still had some of the chocolates left from the night before and an unopened frosty bottle of champagne. We spent an easy two hours over breakfast, snacking on crepes and fresh fruit, feeding each other delicate bites and sipping champagne while we snuggled together under the undulating water and watched the sea in all her fury a few feet away.

"I love the shore," Joe murmured against my ear.

"Is that why you joined the Navy?" I asked.

"Hm. Probably. I never thought about it. I just always loved being close to the water."

"Will you really teach me to dive?"

"Absolutely. The ocean is magical. It can be all sound and fury on top, like it is today. But underneath there's no sound, and the movement is hypnotic. You can't really dive up here, but we'll go to the reefs in the Gulf. The water is clear and smooth as glass."

"I dunno. There's something to be said for water that moves." I rubbed my foot up and down the hard length of his leg.

"Yeah, I've been trying to figure out if we can shoehorn one of these into the upstairs bathroom."

I laughed and replied, "I could definitely get used to this."

Joe smiled and joked, "Sofi might even like a bath in a tub like this."

"Yeah."

Neither of us said anything for a couple of minutes.

"It's getting really close to check out time."

"And we have to work tomorrow."

"And you miss Sofi." I started to tear up. Despite how wonderful the night and morning had been, I had never been away from my baby overnight before. I nodded miserably.

"And I miss Sofi too, so let's get cleared out of here."

We practically flew back to Trenton, arriving at my parents' house just in time for lunch. If they were surprised by our early arrival, nobody said anything. At least the next week would be a short one at work with the Thanksgiving holiday. Joe and I both had to work Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but then we had a four day weekend, unless Joe got called in for an emergency.

Probably all the psychos had worn themselves out over the weekend, gawking at the Morelli-Plum wedding, because the workload was surprisingly light when we got back to the station Monday morning. Joe called it the calm before the storm. His experience taught him that the crazies were saving themselves up for the holidays. "Think about it, Cupcake. Take a bunch of families that don't see each other during the year, probably because they can't stand each other. Then put them in a place that's too small, with too much stress and too much alcohol. It's like waiting for someone to light the fuse to a powder keg. By Thanksgiving night, we'll be up to our elbows in knifings and fistfights if we're lucky, and a few shootings if we're not." Well, I could still hope that it would be somebody else's elbows involved. Joe had asked one of the single guys to cover for him, but that was no guarantee. If too many bad things started happening, they'd start calling in the off-duty guys. It was going to be our first Thanksgiving together, and I was hoping we could spend it that way. I was also trying to force myself to be a pragmatist. I knew Joe was a cop when I married him, and it was part of the job. If it meant our holidays got a little scrambled, it was still a small price to pay for being Mrs. Morelli.

Thanksgiving had me more than a little stressed. The Morelli clan apparently had their big meal for lunch, with the beer flowing freely into the afternoon and evening as the football games unfolded. I figured things tended to get ugly because Joe had his cop face firmly in place, with his mouth pulled into a grim line as he was telling me about it. I wasn't sure how much of his pessimism was due to lingering childhood memories of Old Man Morelli and his liquor-fueled fists, and how much was due to more recent experiences with his brothers. In either case, Joe was already strung pretty tight, and I decided it might be better to wait for a more opportune time to discuss the situation instead of ratcheting up his stress level right before the holiday.

My mom and dad were content to maintain their usual evening festivities, although my mom started to cut up a bit about us not spending the entire day with them. I had to remind her that we were trying to be fair to both families and she subsided. At least for the most part. What was most scary, though, was the thought that both families would make us crazy and we'd decide to start having holidays on our own. I might actually have to learn to cook, and that thought didn't cheer me at all. When I broached the subject with Joe, he took his usual pragmatic approach. "I'm willing to give them a shot for Thanksgiving. If we don't like it, we'll get one of those heat it up meal things from the grocery store for Christmas and they can come to us." I was horrified. My mother would have apoplexy if I served a store-bought Christmas dinner. No Burg wife worth her salt served a store bought holiday meal. Joe just shrugged. I needed to get a grip. If it didn't bother Joe, why should I let it bother me?


	12. Chapter 12

Thursday dawned cloudy and cold, with a promise of snow before the weekend was out. We snuggled Sofi in between us in the big bed, and had a leisurely morning before we had to get ready for the family command performances later in the day. Both mothers had insisted we didn't need to bring anything, and taking a leaf from Joe's book, I decided to take them at their words. If they wanted my contribution, they needed to respond the first time I offered. If that didn't meet with standard Burg operating procedure, too bad. 

We arrived at Joe's mother's on the dot of twelve, since Joe flatly refused to go any earlier. As expected, the place was a zoo, overrun as it was with Grandma Bella and Mrs. Morelli, all five of the original Morelli siblings, all five inlaws, and a seething mass of small Morellis ranging from baby Sofi all the way up to Dominick who nearly matched Joe and Tony's height. The main dining table was extended full length to accommodate the even dozen adults, and numerous small card tables were scattered in the kitchen and living room to handle the children's overflow. Mary and Cathy greeted me with what appeared to be genuine affection, and if Tony and Paulie's wives were more reserved, I thought I understood why. Tony wasn't drunk exactly, but he was far from sober, even this early in the day. Paulie and his wife were carefully avoiding each other, his face a sullen mask and hers a little too brittle, looking as if she might shatter at any moment. My guess was that his womanizing had caught up with him again, but nothing seemed to change. The requisite appearances had to be observed for family holidays, and everybody pretended that everything was okay even when it clearly wasn't. Joe's face was made of stone and seemed to just get harder and harsher as the day wore on. Not even the antics of his smaller nieces and nephews could distract him, and Sofi remained obstinately asleep. The older kids had picked up on the tension emanating in waves from the adults, and seemed to delight in tormenting each other and their respective mothers. By the time we sat down to the meal almost an hour late thanks to the kids' antics, emotions were running so high you could cut the atmosphere with a carving knife.

Mrs. Morelli asked Joe to carve the turkey, which apparently set of some kind of testosterone-fed rivalry. Tony was in no condition to handle a knife, and unfortunately his alcohol consumption had left him with little discretion, and he griped loud and long that as the eldest he was head of the family. Joe didn't relinquish the knife, and tried his best to cajole his brother out of his increasingly foul mood, but to little effect. Paulie was surly to the point of rudeness, and the women were fluttering around trying desperately to put the best face possible on the debacle. If this was a typical Morelli family holiday, I could understand why Joe had been so wrapped around the axle all week. I couldn't wait to get out of there.

Turkey carved and side dishes finally passed, we settled in to eat. I couldn't taste anything and doubted anyone else could either, but I was determined to shut up and get through it for Joe's sake. I absently pushed around the food on my plate, separating the beans out of my Italian mixed vegetables. I reached a fork over to Joe's plate where he had picked out the broccoli for me and absently began to methodically chew and swallow. Without thinking, Joe helped himself to the string beans on the side of my plate.

"That's disgusting," opined Paulie. Considering his mouth was full of food at the time, I had to do a double take to realize he was talking to me and Joe.

"What?" said Joe. He put down his knife before he said it, which was a plus. Anyone with sense would have shut up at his tone. Paulie apparently thought he was bulletproof.

"Eating food off of someone else's plate. It's gross." Paulie struck me as an odd one to be so fastidious considering all the places his genitalia visited, but still didn't say anything. I was starting to get warm under the collar.

Purposefully, Joe speared another bean and stuck it ostentatiously in his mouth. Then he shrugged, all Italian cockiness.

"Jesus, I'm gonna be sick." The guy was just not going to give it a rest.

"Then don't look." All eyes turned to me. So much for quiet and circumspect.

Joe rose and threw down his napkin. "We're leaving."

Great. Just great. His brother behaves like a jackass, and I say one thing, one TINY thing and he goes all Italian on me. I flounced out of the dining room and gathered Sofi's diaper bag. By then, Joe was already at the front door with Sofi, and we slammed out of the house. I seethed quietly as we climbed into the Explorer and settled Sofi in her carseat. Joe walked around to the driver's side and climbed behind the wheel. He didn't start the car, just sat there fuming.

"If you're expecting me to apologize," I started, but he cut me off.

"If anyone should apologize, it's me."

Now I was really lost. "Why?"

"I hate this," he replied. "I love to see my mother and my grandmother. But this." He stopped and took a couple of deep breaths to control his flaring temper. "I walk in that house for a holiday, and it's like I can't breathe. I feel like I'm choking. It's like the old man never left, you know? He may be gone, but there's Tony the mean drunk, and Paulie with his shitty comments, and it's like we can never escape. Old Man Morelli lives on in his sons, don't ever forget it." Joe gave a bitter laugh.

"No, Joe. Old Man Morelli may live on in Tony and Paulie, but you are not them. You are not him. We can make something better."

Joe leaned over and held me close for a few minutes. "Okay," he said. I knew this was an issue that wasn't going to go away; neither was it going to resolve itself in a single afternoon. Joe needed time and space to build a life separate from his identity as a Morelli male, but I was confident we could do it together. He kissed me on my forehead and started the car. We didn't speak any more as we headed to my parents'. They would be surprised to see us so early, but I didn't think anyone would complain.

True to form, my mother was thrilled to see us arrive, and my father quickly took charge of Sofi. Albert and Valerie and the three girls weren't due to arrive until later, so it was still relatively quiet. After the upheaval and tension at the Morellis, it was a welcome relief. Joe meandered into the livingroom to watch the game with Sofi and my dad, and I joined my mother and grandmother in the kitchen. They had the meal well in hand, and my presence was perfunctory at best. After giving a final check to some of food waiting to be cooked closer to dinner time, my mother shooed me out of the kitchen.

Instead of going into the living room, I opted to sit on the back porch. It was cold and just starting to blow ice crystals, but I was warm enough for the moment in my coat, and the cool air was just what I needed to calm me down after the mess at the Morellis. My holiday memories weren't necessarily all Norman Rockwell, but I realized I had failed to appreciate my parents as much as I should have. My dad tended to migrate toward the television and hibernate, which consistently ticked my mother off. I think she would have preferred some version of Rockwell where we all sat around the table playing board games or having Deeply Meaningful philosophical discussions. I think my father would have preferred some uninterrupted sports viewing with no verbal input required from him, without having to endure the hard looks from my mother.

I couldn't imagine the tightrope Joe must have walked as a kid. His father had left a legacy of abuse and violence that still colored his family interactions long after he had died and should have left them in peace. I mentally took back all the positive things I had tried to think about Mr. Morelli on my wedding day. The man was still extending his negative impact from the grave, and while Joe had managed to dodge the bullets of womanizing, abuse, and alcoholism, he had hardly escaped unscathed. I had seen it firsthand earlier today in watching him interact with Tony. Joe trying to play the clown and the peacemaker in an effort to keep a lid on a pot boiling over with anger. I wondered how many years he had forced himself to play that role.

The door opened behind me and Joe stepped out on the porch. He stood behind me, but didn't join me sitting on the step. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Stephanie."

"Funny, Joe, I was just thinking the same thing about you." I stood up and wrapped my arms around his waist. Slowly, his cop mask began to slip and he started to relax into my embrace. I knew there was little I could say because Joe's demons were his alone to fight, but I wanted him to know that he wasn't alone in that fight.

"I love you, you know." He smiled. "We're going to build something better, Joe. Maybe that's all we can do. Each generation builds on the one before. We take the good parts, and try to leave the bad behind, and build something better for our kids."

"I'm not doing that again." He voice didn't brook any argument.

"That's fine. Whatever you decide. They're your family, Joe. You call the shots. If you change your mind, I'll be there with you. If you don't; well, honestly, it would be a relief. I won't lie to you. Good times and bad, Joe. Lunch was a bad time, but it's not the end of the world. Personally, I'm thinking that store bought Christmas dinner may be the way to go. We'll invite your mom and Grandma Bella, and they can either come or not. If it's just us, we'll have lots of leftovers."

"Sounds good to me, Cupcake." I shivered, and Joe wrapped his arms tighter around me. "Ready to come in and watch the game?"

"Who's playing?" I asked.

"Does it matter?"

I laughed. No, it didn't really matter. A quiet ballgame while my mother puttered in the kitchen sounded like a great way to spend the afternoon.

Thanksgiving dinner at my parents' was blessedly uneventful. Even Grandma Mazur's constant stream of sexual innuendo didn't cause a stir, much to her disappointment. I think we'd had all the drama we could stand for the day, and were immune to anything else. Poor Grandma. She finally stomped off upstairs muttering about sticks in the mud with no imagination. At least my Dad seemed relieved. I don't think he actually hates Grandma, but I also think he's planning to lobby for some time off in purgatory after living with her for so many years.

Somehow during the course of the evening, Sofi developed odd, pumpkin-colored smears around her mouth. I never actually caught Joe or my dad feeding her pumpkin pie, but I had my suspicions. They were a little too chummy, and I suspected that one of them would play lookout while the other one would ply Princess Sofi with the pie. God knows what else she'd been fed on the sly. I finally gave Joe the fish eye and said, "If she pukes, you're cleaning her up, not me." He looked a little alarmed, but the smears stopped growing after that. I suppose it could have been worse. It could have been creamed onions.

We motored home not too long after dinner with Sofi snoring softly in the backseat. I think the pie knocked her unconscious. She remained bonelessly, blissfully asleep through a quick wash with diaper wipes and while I wrestled her into her pajamas. It was usually an adventure to maneuver her flailing little arms and legs into her clothes, but tonight was like wrangling small balloons filled with jello. I covered her sweet little sleepy face with kisses before tucking her in for the night in her makeshift nursery. Looking around the drab, dreary space, I determined to spend the weekend fixing things up while I had a break from work.

I lightheartedly skipped down the stairs, ready to spend some quality time with Joe just zoning out together on the sofa, when I noticed he wasn't in the living room. I heard him talking in the kitchen, and it didn't sound good. I couldn't hear any words, but his clipped, frustrated tone told me he was talking to the station. I mentally sighed, but determined not to make him feel bad about something he couldn't control. If he had to go to work, he had to go to work. I knew Joe well enough to know that if he'd had his choice, he'd be here with Sofi and me. No sense making him feel guilty when he already felt crappy about leaving in the first place.

I passed silently behind him as he spoke terse phrases into the telephone and I started digging through the leftovers bag. I wrapped him up some non-perishables and put them in a bag for him while he wound up his conversation. I spared him a glance as he turned around to face me and hung up the phone. His face looked so tired. Today had taken a lot out of him, and I just ached that he had to go out into the big bad world and deal with the dregs of society when all I wanted to do was wrap him up and keep him safe and warm here at home. He ran his hands roughly through his hair, a sure sign of frustration. Before he could say anything, I said, "I know. You have to go. Take this with you, and wake me up when you get home. I don't care how late it is, okay?" I leaned forward and kissed him goodbye.

Mine had been a perfunctory kiss, designed to get him out the door. I figured the sooner he left, the sooner he would be back, but Joe was having none of it. He pressed me up against the wall and kissed me silly, lots of tongue leaving me aching and bereft.

"Not fair," I hissed. Finally, the real Joe smile returned to his eyes for the first time that day, and he playfully copped a feel, then skipped away before I could whack him. He gave me a jaunty wave and sauntered out the back door. "Be back as soon as I can, Cupcake."

"I'll be waiting."

"I'm counting on it." Nobody could leer like Joe. I smiled sadly and decided to stash the leftovers and clean up the kitchen. After treating myself to a long soak in the tub, I had to face the reality of a long, lonely night in our big bed. It's funny. Joe had a queen sized bed, and I'd had one myself ever since I was twelve. God knows I had spent more nights alone in a bed that size than sharing the bed with another person, so I should be used to it. Problem was, I'd spent a very lonely six months tossing and turning alone in the bed, missing Joe. I loved falling asleep to the steady rise and fall of his chest, the small sounds he made when we snuggled against each other in the night. Ever since I had come back from Boston, we had slept with at least some small part of us touching the other one, each gaining solace even in sleep from the nearness of the other. After a couple of hours of bright eyed reading, I practically ran to Sofi when she woke up for her late night feeding. I gathered her small warm body close to me, and marveled again at how much she looked like Joe. Her eyes had completely lost the blue of newborns, even at the edges, and she looked at me with eyes the color of the finest bittersweet chocolate, surrounded by a lush thicket of dark lashes. Joe's eyes. I smiled at her, and she grinned sleepily at me, wildly waving her arms in an effort to capture my wayward curls and pull as hard as she could. I quickly swept my hair back out of harm's way, and brought Sofi back to our bedroom. Her room wasn't exactly cold, and neither was mine, but the whole house just seemed empty without Joe's presence to fill it and ward off the cold outside world.

Decisively, I arranged a barrier of pillows along the edge of the bed on Joe's side, and slid Sofi into the middle of the covers and climbed in next to her. Co-sleeping might not be recommended by the pediatrician, but I doubted I was going to get a lot of sleep tonight anyway, and I wanted the company. Sofi nursed contentedly, then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep next to me. I studied her face in the muted light from the single lamp, and gathered her carefully into my arms. I don't even know when I fell asleep. One moment I was gazing contentedly at my daughter, and the next, Joe was standing silhouetted against the window in the predawn light. His face was turned away from me, and he looked tired and troubled.

"You caught us," I mumbled. I was a little embarrassed at Joe catching me unable to sleep alone. I hoped maybe he would put it down to Sofi having a hard night, because I felt a little foolish to need him so much.

"You two are a sight for sore eyes," he said, but his voice showed he was still far away.

"Bad, huh?" I didn't know if talking about it would help or hurt, but I would follow Joe's lead.

"Bad."

I just waited. Joe slipped of his shoes and shirt, then dropped his trousers, his whole body screaming exhaustion. He dropped heavily on the bed next to Sofi, and I picked her up, ready to take her back to her own bed.

"Some asshole went nuts and took a carving knife to his wife and two kids. We thought the youngest one might make it, but they lost him on the table a couple of hours ago."

"Oh, jeez, Joe." I was at a loss. He looked up and seemed to see me for the first time.

"Hand her to me, okay?"

"Are you sure? You looked pretty tired. I can just put her down…" I began. Joe shook his head.

"I really just want to hold her awhile, okay?"

"Sure." I climbed back into bed and snuggled Sofi and I up next to Joe. He wrapped both of us in his arms, and quickly fell into a profound sleep. I lay there watching him sleep, much as I had watched Sofi the night before. In sleep, his face finally relaxed, and I imagine the deep breaths he took washing away the sights he'd had to witness the night before. When he was well and truly asleep, I gently removed Sofi to her crib, then padded back to the bedroom and climbed in next to Joe. I figured if Joe's presence was a comfort to me while I slept, maybe my just being next to him would help him forget, just for a little while, some of the awful things he dealt with day in and day out. I wrapped my arms around him, and cradled his head against my breast, and his muscles seemed to ease and relax. Soon, sleep overtook us both, and Sofi's indignant demands for breakfast finally woke me several hours later.

Joe started to get up and go after her. I gave him a stern look. "You were up all night. Go back to sleep. I've got Sofi."

I quietly closed the door behind me, then took Sofi downstairs so we wouldn't disturb Joe. I made a quick call to Mary Lou to see if she wanted to do some shopping this afternoon. We had both decided against the feeding frenzy of early morning shopping on Black Friday, but there was still plenty of shopping and holiday cheer to be had in the slightly less harried afternoon. I left Joe a quick note telling him I was shopping with Mary Lou, and that I was dropping Sofi at his mother's house as we'd arranged, and that I'd pick up Pino's on my way home. I hoped he'd be able to sleep in the quiet house while we were gone.

Late that afternoon, I had to admit that bargain hunting had eluded me. I'd lacked the proper spirit, and finally wound up at the almost-deserted home improvement center instead of the mall. I had filled the back of the Explorer with paint and supplies, and decided to do something constructive over the rest of the weekend to chase away the last of the lingering sadness. I laughed at myself a little at buying yet a third batch of green paint, but my vision of Sofi's nursery seemed to be set in stone.

Joe was up and sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper when I sailed in the door carrying Sofi in one arm and a stuffed to the brim Pino's bag in the other. "Hey, you," I called, examining Joe carefully. "You look better."

Joe stood and deftly relieved me of Sofi, and I set the Pino's bag on the counter in the kitchen. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Yesterday was a hard day," I said lightly. I would leave the door open if he wanted to talk, but I wasn't going to push him.

"Yeah." Joe started making goofy faces at Sofi, then turned his attention to me and said, "So what did you do today? Find anything you couldn't live without?"

I laughed and explained I had found myself significantly lacking in Christmas spirit, but had managed to clean out the home improvement store. Joe laughed appreciatively, and went out to retrieve the paint cans and paraphernalia while I set dinner out on plates.

Joe peeked at the smear of paint on top of the can. "Green? You sure you don't want something in pink or purple? Something girly?"

"I'm sure, Joe. Believe me."

"This is the same color as our bedroom. I never knew you were that wild about green."

I shrugged. "I'm not. I'm just that wild about your bedroom. I have good memories. I wanted the same thing for Sofi. This will be the third time's the charm, you know." I decided there wasn't any sense pretending with Joe. He knew me too well anyway. "I painted her room in Boston that color, then my Dad painted her room at Mrs. Mancusi's that color, and I looked at other colors. I really did!" This as he started to laugh at me. "This is Sofi's color," I said defensively.

Joe didn't stop chuckling all the way through dinner, but I think he was feeling pretty pleased with himself that I was so determined to replicate the color of the bedroom walls. While I cleared things up and fed Sofi, I heard Joe banging around in the soon-to-be-green nursery. When I ambled upstairs a little while later, he had already stacked most of the office furniture in the guest room, and was losing a one-sided argument with an unwieldy sheet of plastic that seemed determined to mummify him. He shot me an ugly look at my unconscious chuckle.

"What?" he demanded.

Controlling my laughter with effort, I asked, "Do you know if there's hardwood underneath the old carpet?"

He thought for a minute. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Why don't we just pull up the carpet when we're done? I figured an area rug would be easier to clean while she's little anyway."

"Thank God." Joe threw the wad of mangled plastic into the corner, and looked like he was considering stomping it into submission, just to show who was boss.

I hid my smile with some difficulty, and handed Joe a spool of masking tape. Joe had temporarily relocated Sofi's cradle to the end of our bed, and Sofi was napping. I was starting to fade after a relatively full day, but Joe was rejuvenated after catching up on his sleep. I knew if we didn't get as much done as we could while Sofi was asleep, we would miss our window of opportunity.

I was dragging by the time we had finished taping off all the windows and doors, and Joe pointed me toward the bathroom. I gratefully slid under the warm jets of the shower, and let the water work its magic by unkinking my tired muscles. I soaped and rinsed off quickly, the familiar heaviness in my breasts telling me that Sofi would be ready for a feeding soon.

Sure enough, I found Joe and Sofi playing on the bed when I got out of the bathroom. Sofi was old enough to be cajoled for awhile when she woke up hungry. She was rapidly developing her own little personality instead of just being an eating, sleeping, pooping machine. She had become an expert at hair yanking, and loved to stick her fingers in someone else's facial openings. Eyes, noses, mouths—it was all the same to Sofi. If she could fit her fingers into an orifice, she'd smile and coo excitedly. She and Joe were involved in a complex game of "Eat Your Fingers" where Joe would eat Sofi's fingers as they poked their way into his mouth. When all fingers had been eaten, Joe would blow a big, loud raspberry in the middle of her chubby little tummy and she would chortle appreciatively, showing all her gums in a wide smile. Her arms and legs would then churn excitedly in anticipation of the next round of "Eat Your Fingers". I had no idea how many times her fingers had been eaten already, but neither of them seemed to tire of the game. I climbed on the bed next to them, and Sofi's face lit up. "Hey, Sofi," I said teasingly. "What about your toes? Can Momma eat your toes? Hmmm?" I raked my teeth gently along the arch of her tiny foot and nibbled my way across her miniature toes. "Fingers and Toes," I chanted, and repeated the game. Sofi was still chortling with glee, but I could discern a slight edge to her laughter. Best to quit the game while she was still having a good time and before she kicked over into crying in earnest. Joe began straightening her cradle as I settled against the headboard and began nursing Sofi for what I hoped was the last time that night. Sometimes she slept through, and sometimes not. I was tired enough to hope this would be a sleep through night.

I had dozed off nursing Sofi, because the next thing I remember was Joe quietly moving her to her cradle at the end of the bed. He pulled the warm covers up over my shoulders, and I sighed contentedly. I felt the bed sag beneath his weight as he slid into the bed next to me, and I snuggled up against him without opening my eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

Saturday dawned cloudy but dry, and the cloud cover had notched the mercury up a few welcome degrees. While it still wouldn't be warm, at least we wouldn't be miserably cold when we had to air the paint fumes out of the house later. Sofi woke up for an early breakfast, and I just pulled her into bed next to me to change her diaper and nurse her. I was stuffing her wiggly body into a warm sleeper when I heard the back door slam, then Joe's distinctive tread on the stairs a few minutes later.

I smiled at him as he came through the bedroom door, blessedly bearing a mug of hot coffee and a white bakery bag. "Boston Creams?" I asked.

"Is there any other kind?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Sometimes I could really go for an Italian cannoli…." I said suggestively.

"Oh, you could, could you?" The wolf grin was in place. "You'll have to show me later, Cupcake."

I pretended to pout, but Joe just laughed at me and swatted my butt through the covers. "Come on. Let's get moving." He unceremoniously picked Sofi up like a sack of potatoes and tossed her gently over his shoulder. He pulled her legs until her head appeared back at the top of his shoulder and she giggled. He dropped her head back over his shoulder, then slowly pulled her back up. More giggles.

I didn't bother with a shower, figuring we would all be covered in paint before lunch anyway, but instead threw on my rattiest maternity clothes. I was so sick of the ragged blue shirt that was all I could squeeze into during my last weeks carrying Sofi that it would be cathartic to burn the thing when we finished painting. I finished the last of my coffee as I went down the hallway to meet Joe in the nursery. He had carefully draped Sofi's bouncy chair with several old towels, but Sofi's quickly grasping fingers were pulling the towels back up faster than he could smooth them out. "Here," I said as I went to help. I quickly tucked the ends of the towels under the legs of the chair while Joe held onto Sofi, then we both maneuvered her quickly into the seat before she could undo anything.

Joe scowled in mock severity at his daughter. "For such a small person, you can sure make a mess, you know that?" Sofi grinned delightedly.

"Tell her something she doesn't know, Dad." Joe and I both laughed.

Joe started cutting in around the edges of the ceiling. He had chosen his oldest threadbare jeans and a ragged T-shirt that had seen better days. Both fit him like a second skin, however, and I had a lovely view as the day wore on, just watching the play of Joe's muscles against the thin fabric of his clothes. He caught me looking and wiggled his hips suggestively. Unable to resist, I managed to coat both hands thoroughly with paint before reaching over to grab both cheeks and giving a firm squeeze. I grinned to myself. If Joe ever tried to wear those jeans in pubic again, he'd have to explain two vivid green handprints right across the ass.

Well pleased with my handprints, I grinned smugly up at him. "This is war, Cupcake." I laughed as I tried to skitter out of the way, but the room was too small, especially with Sofi's bouncy chair set square in the middle of the floor. All too soon, I sported two large green handprints on my ratty t-shirt. Pulling the sticky fabric away from my skin, I noted that I had two large handprints on my breasts as well. Joe leaned over to get more paint on his brush, and I took full advantage by running both paint soaked hands up his back and under his shirt. I started to work my way around to the front, but Joe twisted away from me and protested, "Not the chest hair, Cupcake!"

It was indeed, war.

By the time the room was completely green, Sofi was firmly convinced that both of her parents had inhaled far too many paint fumes. We were both more green than flesh colored, and we had resorted to fingerpainting suggestive comments on each other during one particularly erotic interlude. We were just gathering up the paint supplies to ditch them in the trash when the doorbell rang. We stared blankly at each other as we tried to decide if it was worse for "Hot Momma" or "Big Kahuna" to go answer the door, since those were the titles emblazoned on the crotches of our respective jeans. I sat down firmly on the floor and pulled my knees up to my handprinted chest and shook my head. Joe gave me a look as the doorbell pealed again.

"Shit."

I scurried down the hall and locked myself in the bathroom before he could change his mind.

I had emptied the hot water tank by the time I'd finally scrubbed the last of the green paint from my skin. Joe was still conspicuously absent. I started for the stairs, and was greeted by the sound of male laughter and the unmistakable smell of Pino's pizza wafting upward from the living room. Joe had thrown an old sheet over the sofa, and was happily scarfing pizza with Tony and Paulie. I stopped dead in my tracks.

Paulie saw me first, and extended the Pino's box. "Peace offering," he said. "We're not usually complete assholes, just on holidays and special occasions." He gave me a lopsided grin well-laced with the infamous Morelli charm, and I understood at least a little bit of Marie's dilemma. He had a softer version of Tony and Joe's good looks, and more than their share of Morelli charm, which I wouldn't have believed possible.

"Thanks," I was still wary, but Morelli charm had always been my downfall. Combine it with Pino's pizza, and I was done for.

"Uh uh, Cupcake. Don't let them off that easy," Joe drawled. His brothers tried to shout him down with catcalls and protests.

Joe looked straight at Paulie. "You pissed off my wife at our first family Thanksgiving. In return, you two can help me pull up the carpet in Sofi's room and get it out of here."

"You gonna refinish the floors?" This from Tony, who was thankfully clear eyed this afternoon.

"Do you think I need to?" Joe didn't sound too enthusiastic.

Tony and Paulie both shot him a look. They were older, and veterans of more remodeling projects than Joe. Apparently, refinishing the floors went without saying.

"Beth's brother has a business doing floors. I bet I could get his sander for the rest of the weekend," Tony volunteered.

"You know how to run it?" Joe was still trying to find a way out of refinishing the floors. I

was firmly on Tony and Paulie's side, and shot him an evil glare.

"Do I know how to run it?" Tony reached across and dusted the top of Joe's head with his beefy palm. I hid a smile at this classic older brother – younger brother by play. "Yes, Joey, I know how to run it. I used to help him out nights and weekends when he was just starting out, picking up extra cash."

"Shit. That means I'm stuck scraping the damn corners." Paulie didn't look happy.

"Hey, all I did was argue with Joey over the damn turkey. You're the one pissed off Stephanie, so you're stuck hand scraping the corners. It's only fair." Tony had apparently appointed himself lord high arbiter of the Morelli brothers. This was apparently standard operating procedure because Joe looked resigned to refinishing the floors, and Paulie quit arguing. Paulie spared me a glance.

"Okay, if I scrape your corners, then we're square, right?"

I nodded, not quite sure what scraping corners had to do with bad holiday behavior, but I was feeling a little light headed from the testosterone and paint fumes and all.

"All right." Paulie stood and hitched up his jeans. "Tell him to send over a decent scraper. I don't want no pansy-assed dull scraper that won't do shit. I want to do this right."

I smiled happily after Paulie as he disappeared up the stairs to take a look at the job. Tony turned to Joe. "Paulie and I can handle the carpet. Penance for the whole Thanksgiving thing," he elaborated as Joe started to argue. "You're going to need a couple of quarts of stain and some sealer. Don't skimp on the sealer," he admonished as if Joe was five years old. In Tony's world, I think Joe would be perpetually five years old.

Joe rolled his eyes and went to change his clothes. I grabbed Sofi and headed for the Explorer before any of these volatile Morelli males could change their mind.

We took off for the hardware store, with Joe muttering in Italian under his breath. I just smiled and let him mutter. He finally turned to me and said, "Do you think Sofi needs a crib? I mean, while we're redoing the room, it would be just as easy to put up a regular crib as the cradle. She's getting pretty big."

I agreed that Sofi could probably use a real crib, and Joe veered off the next exit to the baby store.

After two excruciating hours, I was ready to put Morelli behind the bars of a crib, or maybe just behind bars. He had examined each and every crib in the store in detail. He measured the distance between the bars. He read every single safety notice on every single model. He examined mattresses, tested the strength of the springs by climbing into the damn things. When one model collapsed under his weight, he called over the manager to complain about inferior products, and just what if his daughter had been in that crib when it gave out? It was useless to point out to Joe that there was no way in hell that Sofi would ever be the size of a policeman, and if she ever was, she would have long outgrown her crib. He had the bit between his teeth, and nothing was going to stop him from buying the very best crib he could find.

Joe finally found a pink and white monstrosity that boasted a full wrap around canopy that he decided was just perfect for Princess Sofi. I pointed out that she might become entangled in the fabric canopy and hang herself. I was pretty sure it couldn't happen, but I wasn't going to argue aesthetics with a besotted father. The canopied monstrosity from hell would go in that nursery over my dead body. I eventually talked him down from his high horse and into a relatively simple maple crib (non-toxic stain and finish, no sharp edges, bars the requisite distance apart) that would convert to a toddler bed and eventually a day bed. I liked the simple lines of the crib, and the furniture was versatile enough to last Sofi through her childhood.

We stuffed the boxes holding Sofi's new crib into the back of the Explorer along with the miles of frilly white bedding Joe had insisted on, then headed for the home improvement store. Joe was able to match the finish color for the floor to the maple crib, which made him happy. While he was arguing stain colors and finishes with the clerk, I took Sofi over and found a soft, loopy rug in muted watercolors. I didn't consult Joe since I didn't want to have to count the number of loops on the back of the carpet, just threw it in the cart behind Sofi's infant seat, and went back to see if he was done choosing between eight colors of brown stain. He was. Thank God.

We headed home and I vowed to sneak any future baby furniture in through the back door while Joe was at work. High chairs, swings, whatever. All would be a fait accompli before Daddy ever walked through the door.

After the weekend spent with the Morelli brothers' three ring circus, it was a relief to go into work Monday morning. I had peeked in Sofi's room before we headed off to work, and the floors looked fabulous. All that shiny hardwood came at a price, however. Take three alpha males, confine them in a small space, require that they work together on an unfamiliar job, and you have a recipe for disaster. Add in a lot of pride, a little sweat, some sawdust, and a fair amount of frustration, and tempers reached the boiling point with alarming regularity. Don't get me wrong—my father is Italian, and I thought I knew all about Italian tempers. They flare up, there's some yelling, and some arm waving, then it blows over. Joe and his brothers took this to whole new heights. At least the roof was still on, I didn't see any holes in the walls, and probably nobody actually got punched.

Probably.

I shuddered at the memory of all those Italian swear words flying around my house. Joe flatly refused to tell me what they meant when I asked him. I absently picked up a stack of files off my desk and started organizing my tests for the day. Mostly routine blood and tissue samples. Okey dokey.

I dropped my shoulder to dump my purse into my bottom desk drawer, and felt the stack of files begin to slide. Shit.

I managed to contain everything on top of my desk and in relative order. Somebody had been in a hurry and didn't nail down the papers the way they were supposed to, so reports and pictures had fanned out all over my desk. I methodically began to put everything back in order when one set of photos caught my eye. I had seen more than my share of pictures of dead bodies, but these were different. The kids were younger than MaryAlice and Angie. I felt my stomach lurch, and resolutely put my head between my knees. Geez. Adults were one thing, but these were just little kids. It didn't seem like there should be that much blood in them. Breathe, Stephanie. I knew without checking the name that this was Joe's case from Thursday night.

Sheryl breezed through the door, and dropped into her chair across from me. She took one look at my pale face and the scattered pictures, and quickly shuffled them back inside the manila file folder. "You okay?" she asked.

I nodded, still not trusting my voice.

"Stephanie, listen to me, okay? Do yourself a favor. Don't look at the pictures, don't look at the names. Just do the job. It doesn't mean you don't care. But there are more scumbags than you've got tears, sweetie. You'll burn yourself out if you take each one to heart." I nodded again. I knew she was right, but it was hard.

"You're good at what you do, Stephanie. You do your part to bring these guys to justice, and the rest of the team does their job, all the way up the line, and the end result is a safer place for our kids. If you burn out, that's one less good guy we have to stand against the bad guys."

"Okay." The sight of those kids would still haunt me, as I'm sure they would Joe, but Sheryl was right. My part of solving the problem hinged on me being able to get in there and do my job so that everybody else could do theirs. If it all worked the way it was supposed to, this guy wouldn't see daylight again. It was small satisfaction when compared to the young lives cut grotesquely short, but it was the only power I had. I gained a new respect for my husband that day. This crime scene had been horrific, but I'm sure he had encountered others equally bad over the years. The only power he had over this kind of evil was his willingness to climb back into the slimepit of humanity every day and keep doing his job.

I used to think Joe was impersonal about his job. As I worked through that file on that miserable Monday, I realized there was no way that Joe, my Joe, could ever be impersonal about things like this. He would take every one of his cases personally. He might not broadcast the emotion, and he might learn to contain it so it didn't overwhelm him and take over his life, but I was equally sure that each victim mattered to him. He felt each loss.

And Sheryl was right. The only way to combat this sea of filth was one step, one job, one case at a time. I kept my head down, and kept working my numbers. If this asshole walked, it wouldn't be because I hadn't done my job properly. It was my small way of backing up Joe.

Joe wasn't in his office at lunch time, so Sheryl and I went to the deli. I was learning a lot from her. Not just about the specifics of the job, but also how to handle myself and my reactions to what could easily become an overwhelming job. One of her hard and fast rules was to leave the work at the office. We talked about everything except our cases over lunch. I showed her pictures of Sofi, and some of the snapshots of the wedding. In return, she pulled out pictures of her husband, a bear of a man with a huge smile, thinning hair and a thickening waistline. She had two grown kids who lived on the opposite ends of the country. I told her about our crib shopping expedition, and we both laughed till we cried. Sheryl swore she'd never be able to look at Joe again without picturing him bouncing in a baby crib.

We got back to work, and picked up the thread of our concentration as soon as we hit the door. I was deep in thought and working a particularly meticulous part of analysis when Joe popped into the lab later that afternoon. "Who's working Donaldson?" he asked the room at large.

"That would be your wife," I said, and raised the file above my head. He sauntered over, and gave me a perfunctory kiss on top of the head.

"What do we have back on blood work? I'm trying to figure out the timeline, and I need to know who he did first."

I shook my head. "Gonna be tomorrow at the soonest."

Joe started to protest.

"Joe, your victims were all in the same family. Two out of the three samples were the same blood type, and your perp isn't cooperating, so we're waiting for a court order to get a sample from him for comparison. And it's Monday after a holiday weekend. You know how backed up the judges are. It's going to have to wait for DNA, and that takes longer. I know you wanted to do a prelim, but it's not going to work in this case."

"Damn."

"I know," I said. "You want to get this nailed down. So do I. Let me do my job. As soon as I know something, you'll know something."

Joe sighed in frustration. I understood he wasn't happy about having to wait, but I also knew the frustration wasn't directed at me personally, just the situation. "Allright." Another sigh. "If there's anything…" I cut him off.

"If there's anything remarkable in the meantime, I'll page you." I lowered my voice to a mock-whisper. "Just don't tell the other detectives I give you preferential treatment."

"Is that what they're calling it this week?" Sheryl didn't bat an eyelash or miss a beat, and her delivery was so deadpan, it took me a second to react. Not so Joe. He threw back his head and roared with laughter. I gave him a shove toward the door.

"Get out of here before you ruin my reputation!"

"Again?" Those wicked, wicked eyes….


	14. Chapter 14

I pulled into the driveway early Tuesday afternoon. We had finally found a Trenton pediatrician both sides of the family could agree on, and Sofi was finally caught up on her shots. The indignities visited upon her small person had driven her right into a towering Italian rage, complete with bulging veins and shaking fists. Frankly, I was glad Joe was still working overtime on the Donaldson investigation, and had been unable to go to the doctor with us as he'd originally planned. I shuddered to think what his reaction would have been to Nurse Cratchett poking his beloved Sofi with long, sharp needles. Sofi had worn herself out, and the combination of rage and pain reliever had lulled her into a deep sleep. I had a fleeting flirtation with the idea of a nap, when I recognized Paulie's wife, Marie, sitting in my driveway.

Her face was pale and set when I knocked on her window. If anything, she looked more fragile than she had on Thanksgiving, almost as if she would shatter and blow away at the slightest breeze. Obviously miles away, she startled before she shot me a smile that didn't reach her eyes, and told me she would meet me in the house. I left the door open behind me and went quickly up the stairs to put Sofi down. I barely knew Marie, and racked my brain to come up with any reason she'd be sitting in my driveway on a Tuesday afternoon.

I came back down the stairs just as Marie was wrestling a large flat package through the front door. I went to help her move it, then quickly shut the door before the whole house was freezing. "Thanks," Marie said absently, rubbing her too-thin arms in a sweater that wasn't nearly warm enough for the cold of the day.

"Come on in and have a seat," I said. I went over and nitched up the thermostat a few degrees. Joe would promptly turn it back down when he got home. He'd give me a hard time for running up the gas bill, I'd respond by telling him we weren't all as hot-blooded as he was, then he'd laugh and cuddle up next to me on the couch, and stick my cold feet under the edge of his sweatshirt to warm them up. I looked longingly at the mantle clock. Joe wouldn't be home for hours yet, so the central heat was going to have to do.

Marie was nervously fiddling with the string holding the brown kraft paper around what was obviously a large picture frame. "What have you got?" I asked.

"A present for Sofi. Well, for Sofi's room, anyway. I hope you like it." She spoke in short, jerky bursts, obviously uncomfortable. I determined to make appreciative noises even if she'd brought a godawful picture of Grandma Bella. I helped her unwrap the frame, then turned it to face me.

I was wrong. It wasn't a picture, but a painting. A rather nice on, in fact, that would look really nice in Sofi's room. It had a misty, ethereal quality about it, all soft forest colors, somewhere between an impressionist landscape and something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. Still, the soft, dreamy quality and muted colors would look beautiful in Sofi's room. "It's beautiful," I said sincerely.

"Thank you." Marie looked down at her hands, and a faint blush rose on her cheeks.

"No, I really like this. Where did you…" I broke off. Wait a minute. That green leaf down in the corner wasn't a leaf after all, but a small, smiling face. A spray of yellow wildflowers became the wind-blown hair of a fairy princess. A horse rose out of white and gray clouds, majestic and strong. "Oh, my God. Look at this!" I rapidly pointed out the hidden parts of the painting and began looking for more. Was that a rabbit hiding in the tree, his long ears blending perfectly with the long leaves on the branches? I squinted at another amorphous blob, trying to decide if it was a watery flower or a mermaid.

"You really like it?" Marie's voice took on warmth and vitality for the first time.

"It's wonderful," I said, before it finally dawned on me. "Did you paint this?" I asked incredulously. She nodded, and seemed pleased at my obviously genuine enthusiasm. "Wow."

"Marie, this is fabulous. Thank you!" Impulsively, I leaned over and put my arms around her. What a beautiful addition to Sofi's nursery, and how thoughtful of Marie to paint it for her. It was a perfect little girl's wonderland, full of happy, bright things. I imagined the hours Sofi would spend unwinding its secrets as she got older.

"I'm glad you like it," Marie said, and this time the smile reached up to her eyes. She had tiny, delicate features, and relaxed and smiling she was really very pretty. She was probably ten years my senior, but she was aging well, with the clear, poreless complexion that seemed to stave off wrinkles forever. Her hair was a rich, deep brown that fell in a perfectly straight waterfall to well below her shoulders. "When I was a little girl, I was convinced I could see things that other people couldn't." She shrugged slightly, then continued. "After awhile, I realized that maybe I just wanted to see those things, but it still comes out in my painting." She sounded sad as she finished, and the haunted look was back in her eyes.

I was at a loss. Obviously, Marie was deeply troubled, but I didn't know quite how I fit into this equation. Marie reached over and squeezed my hand, "Don't worry, Stephanie. I'm fine," she said, just as if she had read my mind. I realized she must be a keen observer as an artist, and I shouldn't be surprised she could read me so easily. It's already well-established that I can't bluff for anything, and half the world knows my sexual habits just by looking at my face. I decided that two could play the honesty game.

"No, you're not fine, but you want me to think that."

"Okay, I'll give you that one. I'm not fine. But I hope I _will_ be fine." She gathered her thoughts. "I'm leaving Paulie," she said baldly. "I wanted to finish the painting for Sofi and drop it off. I've already sent the kids to my mother's, and I'll be picking them up there as soon as I leave here."

I didn't ask why. Everyone in the Burg knew _why_, for God's sake. I settled for "Where will you go?"

"I don't want Paulie to know."

"Then I won't tell him. But I'd like to stay in touch," realizing even as I said it that I meant it.

She thought for a minute, weighing her options. Weighing me. "Syracuse. We're going to Syracuse."

"Okay. If you need anything…" I stopped. Obviously, she had planned this down to the last detail.

"I won't, but thanks." She smiled at me again, that small, beautiful smile that we saw all too seldom. "And could I ask a favor?"

"Sure."

"Tell Joe to take care of Paulie, will you?" She started to tear up, and I have to admit I was surprised. I would have thought that Paulie had long destroyed any tender feelings from his wife, but I was obviously wrong. "He's not a bad person, Stephanie, really. A lousy husband, yeah. But not a bad person." She was trying to laugh through her tears, and losing the battle. She drew in a shuddering breath.

"Remember I said I used to think I could see things other people couldn't?"

I nodded.

"It was like that with Paulie. Everybody else just saw another out of control Morelli boy who wasn't worth his salt. But I saw something else. Or I thought I did. I thought I could see past the womanizing, and past the hurtful things, and see the real Paulie. The Paulie nobody else could see. The guy who was sweet and funny, charming and tender. That's the Paulie I fell in love with. And I kept thinking if I was just patient enough, if I loved him enough, that hidden Paulie would come out." She looked at me with big, sad eyes.

"It's been fifteen years, and I'm still waiting. And in the meantime, I'm just tired of hurting. Eventually, it reached the point where it hurts more to stay than it does to go, so I'm going."

I nodded in understanding. "Keep in touch, okay? I won't tell Paulie where you are, but I need to know you're okay." I pulled her in for a fierce hug, wanting to fill her with all the hope and good wishes I could. She deserved to be happy. Hell, we all deserve to be happy.

"I will," she said. She gave me another small smile, got into her car, and slowly drove away in the waning afternoon light. I shut the door behind her and leaned against the wall and cried. I cried for Marie, I cried for how close Joe and I had come to losing each other, and finally I cried for Paulie, who had no idea what he would lose until it was too late.

Sofi demanded my full attention when she woke up, which forced me out of my blue funk. I said a little prayer for Marie and her kids, then belatedly added Paulie, mostly because I thought Marie would want me to. Sofi was crabby and fractious, and wanted to be held constantly. I finally stole a few minutes and dug through the freezer for one of Angie Morelli's manicotti dishes and threw it in the oven. I conscientiously set the timer, remembering the billows of black smoke a few weeks earlier when I had neglected to do so. I didn't so much mind Joe's smirk or even the acrid scent of burned cheese. Mrs. Morelli made killer manicotti, and the last batch had charred to a cinder thanks to a runaway oven and Joe's runaway libido. I smiled at the memory of Joe fanning the smoke out the kitchen window while wearing nothing more than what God had gifted him with. We'd both laughed and split the last pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream for dinner that night, but tonight I wanted the warmth of the kitchen and the homey smell of homemade cooking permeating the house. I drew my sweater tighter around me and nudged the heater up another notch. I hoped Joe would be home soon. Somehow his very presence made the house cozier, warmer, and more inviting.

I scooped up my poor unhappy Sofi, and saw we had at least another hour before I could give her another dose of pain reliever. Her face was warm, but not overly hot. She had just enough of a fever to be miserable, but not enough to really worry about. I bundled her in some soft light blankets and dimmed the lights. I rocked her steadily, crooning quietly to her in a nonsensical monotone that I hoped would soothe her back to sleep.

I saw a pair of headlights in the front window, and my heart skipped a little beat. I smiled at myself. I'd been sleeping with Joe Morelli off and on for more than 15 years, but my heart still gave that little skip when he came home. I heard the welcome sound of his key in the lock, and turned my face to the front door and gave him a welcoming smile. Sofi wasn't quite asleep, but she was quiescent, and I was hesitant to disturb her. "How are my girls?" Joe asked his usual question, and smiled at us both before leaning down to give Sofi a fleeting kiss on top of her head, and me a more leisurely kiss that told me he'd had a long day and was glad to be home.

"We missed you," I answered for both Sofi and myself. Joe dropped tiredly on the sofa and slipped off his shoes and jacket.

"How'd she do at the doctor?" Joe asked.

I decided to skip the finer points since there wasn't anything Joe could do to change anything anyway. "She's fine, just a little crabby. Her temperature is up, but nothing unexpected."

"Hey, Sof. You having a hard day?" Joe asked his daughter while his big hand cradled the back of her head. Sofi roused at hearing her Daddy's voice, and gave him a sleepy smile. I could see that the two of them would take comfort in each other, so I handed Sofi off to Joe and went to check on dinner.

The timer told the manicotti had another five minutes to go, so I got out plates and forks, and opened a bottle of red wine. Joe looked like he could use a glass to unwind. I grabbed some napkins, and went back into the livingroom to set up dinner on the coffee table. I smiled softly to myself to see Joe at the thermostat, dutifully turning it down. He caught my smile and answered with one of his own. "I'm going to buy you some thicker socks." I chuckled as I went back to the kitchen to get the manicotti and Sofi's medicine.

Sofi's meds kicked in while we ate, and Joe laid her down to nap, noticing the painting propped against the wall for the first time. "What's this?" he asked.

"Marie painted it for Sofi. Isn't it awesome?"

Joe went over to examine the painting more closely. "Wow. This is great." He studied it awhile longer. "What do you mean Marie painted it?"

"Paulie's wife, Marie. She painted it for Sofi's room. She brought it by today before…" Oops. Too much.

"I didn't know Marie painted."

"Yeah, neither did I. I was really surprised when she told me, but it's great, isn't it? I keep finding new things in it that I missed the first time I looked at it." I was babbling, but I was sincerely hoping Joe was tired enough not to notice my slip. He was still absorbed in the painting when the doorbell rang. Yes, somebody up there loves me. I practically skipped across the floor to answer the door.

God has a weird sense of humor.

"Hi, Paulie. Come on in." This was not going to be good. Nope. No matter what kind of face I tried to put on it, I couldn't figure any way this evening wasn't going straight to hell.

Paulie looked straight at Joe. "Marie left me." Joe swiveled his head and looked straight at me, not missing a thing.

Shit.

Paulie noticed the painting for the first time. Not good. I started hyperventilating, then purposefully calmed myself back down. I didn't have anything to worry about.

"Where did you get that?"

I spoke calmly and quietly, hoping these two hot tempered Italian males would take the hint. "Marie brought it by for Sofi." Stick with the truth, Stephanie, just don't volunteer anything.

"When? What time? Did she say where she was going?" Paulie sounded frantic, but I didn't really care.

"She came by this afternoon and we talked for awhile."

"Did you know she was leaving?" This from Joe.

"Yes."

"Do you know where she is?" Joe asked.

"Yes."

"And?" Paulie couldn't restrain himself. Seemed like that was an ongoing problem, I thought uncharitably.

"And she doesn't want you to know." I set my jaw and looked straight at him, giving nothing away.

Paulie made a classically Italian motion—part shrug, arms waving and eye rolling all at once. I was impressed. I would never have been able to get it all together so effortlessly. Probably the Hungarian genes from my mother prevented the Italian from operating smoothly like that. Too bad. It was a really eloquent move that didn't require any words at all. He topped the whole thing off with a mute appeal to Joe to reason with his unreasonable wife. Truly impressive. I did my best imitation of Joe's cop face and turned to look at him completely guilelessly, as if butter wouldn't melt in my mouth.

"Cupcake," he started.

"Joe, I was worried about Marie. I asked her to tell me where she was going so I could stay in touch and make sure she and the kids are okay. She agreed to tell me only after I promised not to tell Paulie. I have to honor that."

He nodded his shaggy head. He wasn't happy, but he understood. Not so Paulie.

"That's bullshit. Marie is my wife. Those are my kids. I have a right to know where they are," he demanded.

Big mistake. I saw a red haze in front of my eyes. "Bullshit? Let me tell you what's bullshit, Paulie." Joe stood up, and the look I shot him would have sent a weaker man to his knees. Instead, he just lazily leaned up against the mantle. I wasn't fooled. He had strategically placed himself midway between me and his brother. I didn't know who he was planning to protect, but at the moment, I was thinking Paulie was going to need the paramedics by the time I got through with him.

"Bullshit is fucking around on your wife, then coming in here and shooting your mouth off about your rights."

Paulie interrupted me. "Those women meant nothing!"

"Nothing to you, maybe. Obviously, they meant something to Marie! Or didn't you think about that? Huh? Do you know what it is for a woman to make love to a man, Paulie? Think about it for a minute. Think about the mechanics. Women have to trust someone else enough to let them inside our own bodies, It's a hell of a leap of faith, Paulie, and not one most women make lightly. For fifteen years, Marie loved you enough, trusted you enough to let you inside her own body. And you threw aside this trust, this sacred trust, for something that you say means nothing to you. You threw away your own wife's happiness for nothing. She meant less to you than nothing. Think about it. Why in the hell would she want to stay?" With that, I decided I had said enough, and I stomped off up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door.

I didn't sleep. I could hear Joe and Paulie talking late into the night. Sometimes their voices were quiet, sometimes one or both of them were all but shouting at each other. I intentionally tuned out the details. I had said what I needed to say, and I didn't particularly care what else happened. I was glad that Joe was willing to sit there and listen to Paulie; It absolved my conscience. I had promised Marie I would ask Joe to take care of Paulie, and I hadn't had the chance. It looked like the brothers were so used to looking out for each other that my promise hadn't been necessary after all. I was glad. Marie may have seen things positive things hiding deep within Paulie, but I didn't like what I saw at all. And I didn't like the way Paulie made me examine my own life and actions. Most of all, I didn't like the way he made me feel about myself.

I finally heard the front door close, and Joe's tread on the stairs. He came into the bedroom quietly, not saying anything. I just laid there, my eyes open and dry, watching him in the moonlight. He dropped his clothes and climbed into bed next to me. He turned on his side facing me, and propped his head on one arm. "You were pretty hard on my brother tonight."

"Yes." I turned to face him in the concealing darkness. His free hand began to stroke absently up and down my side. "I wasn't any harder on him than I've been on myself, Joe. I had a lot of time to think while we were apart. For the longest time, I would look in the mirror, and all I could see was the look in your eyes when you saw me in that alley." Joe's hand stilled, but I reached out and grasped it before he could withdraw. "I looked in the mirror, and I hated what I had become."

I steadied my breathing and went on. "I saw someone who had taken a precious gift and thrown it away over something meaningless, something without value. I had to look at myself and face the sad fact that I had become a person who had chosen stroking my own ego over the feelings of a good man who loved me. I was Paulie." I held Joe's hand in a painful grip, that one point of contact all that was holding me together. "I hated what I had become, and I vowed if I ever got another chance, I would never, ever make those same mistakes again. I would make sure that you knew, every minute of every day, just how much I love you and how much your love means to me."

"As long as Paulie believes infidelity is no big deal, then Marie is better off without him. And I'm not telling him where she is."

"Okay," Joe said quietly. He leaned over and gave me a gentle, questing kiss. It started out slow and chaste, but quickly accelerated. His eyes hot, breathing ragged, Joe moved over me, "I love you, Cupcake. Don't ever doubt it."

"Never, Joe. I could never doubt you. I love you, too." I closed my eyes and held him close as he began to move.

I woke slowly in the predawn light the next morning. I was on my back, with the warm weight of Joe's sleeping body still sprawled over the top of me. I loved waking up entwined with Joe. I stretched just a little to ease a tight spot in my back, and Joe shifted position slightly. Knowing his alarm would soon sound, I ran my fingers gently through his overly long waves, then pressed some light kisses along his forehead. He smiled in his sleep, and his arms wrapped tighter around me. I ran my fingers along the shell of his ear. "Hey, sleepyhead," I whispered, "It's about time to get up and go to work."

Joe opened one eye. "Habba bedda idea."

I chuckled, "I'm sure you do, Officer Hottie, but Sofi is going to be yelling for breakfast in a few minutes and we really don't have time."

"Unh." I laughed at the amount of disgust he could cram into one single syllable.

I loved watching the shadows play across his morning beard. His thick lashes lay feather soft against the high, hard planes of his cheekbones. A small frown still furrowed between the wings of his eyebrows, and I could swear there was just the tiniest hint of a pout on his softly relaxed lips. I didn't often have the luxury of watching Joe sleep in the morning, and I determined to enjoy every second. The one eyeball opened halfway up again, and the frown lines got deeper. "What?"

"Just watching." It's funny, I could practically watch consciousness seep back into Joe's face. I have to admit, it happened a lot faster for him than it ever did for me. In less than a minute, Joe was articulate and clear eyed, and I envied him that. Most morning saw me stumbling around in a blur for at least a half hour after my initial caffeine infusion.

With perfect timing, we both heard Sofi start to fuss in her shiny new nursery. "You're on top," I reminded him. Joe pushed up on his elbows, then stopped to give me blistering kiss before getting the rest of the way up and disappearing down the hall.

"You shoulda woke me up sooner, Cupcake," he called back over his shoulder.

Yeah, I should have. I sighed and sat up, ready to feed Sofi before we started our morning rush out the door. Instead, Joe came back in with Sofi and sat on the edge of the bed while she nursed. "You're thinking pretty loud this morning," I observed.

Joe rubbed his hands over his face, and I could hear the sandpaper sound of his morning stubble raking over the calluses on his hands. Intimately familiar with the feel of both the stubble and those hands, I sighed and purposely tamped down the flicker of desire that had started up all on its own. "I just don't want this thing with Paulie and Marie to come between us."

"It won't unless one of us puts it there," I said carefully. I was all in favor of not letting Joe's brother and sister in law's marital difficulties drive a wedge between us, but if Joe thought that meant I would automatically acquiesce to whatever he wanted, he had another think coming.

"Paulie's my brother, Stephanie. He's really upset."

"I'm sure he is, Joe. But that's really his problem, not ours."

"If he could just talk to Marie…" Joe started, but quit as soon as my head started shaking.

"I promised my sister in law I wouldn't tell him where she was, Joe."

He thought for a minute. "Okay, then, how about if I talk to her?"

"When I talk to her, I'll ask her, okay?" I could tell Joe wasn't completely happy with my answer, but it was the best I could do. Personally, I thought Paulie needed to do a lot more squirming and soul searching before Marie gave him the time of day. A generous helping of humble pie wouldn't hurt him a bit, either.

"I just want my brother to be happy," Joe finally said.

"And I just want Marie to know she has more value than to let him use her like a piece of toilet paper Joe. She deserves better than that." I was starting to get hot under the collar again, and Joe's sex appeal had nothing to do with it.

"I completely agree. She does deserve better than that. Okay?"

"Okay." I still wasn't thrilled, and neither was he, but we'd get through it. I got up with Sofi to go change her diaper, and pulled him close for a one-armed hug as I was on my way by. He took the opportunity to cop a feel through my pajama bottoms, so I figured we were getting close to back to normal. "Hey," I called from Sofi's room. "You up to dinner out and some Christmas shopping tonight if I can get my mom to watch Sofi?"

Joe came in and leaned against the doorframe. "Are you asking me for a date?" he teased.

"Do we get to have sex after?"

"Hell yes."

"Well okay then. I'm asking you for a date. But it has to be hot sex." I peeked at him over my shoulder. I don't know how well my 'come-hither' was working considering I was wearing baggy pajamas and I hadn't combed my hair. Plus I was up to my wrists in baby shit.

"I could do that," he drawled.

"You could, huh? Could you also hand me a new box of baby wipes over here? Your daughter made one hell of a mess."

"Yeesh," said Joe, after taking a quick look at Sofi. "I'm glad it's your morning."

"Probably Paulie fed her prunes last night after I stomped off upstairs." I said blackly.

I could still hear Joe chuckling as he went to start the shower.


	15. Chapter 15

The day passed pretty quickly. The Donaldson case percolated forward, but life in the big city meant that newer and nastier crimes would always come along and steal the spotlight. I handled the cases better, however, when I couldn't put a face to the victims, so I intentionally glossed over the details as I ran my tests with a meticulous efficiency that I hoped would help put these monsters behind bars and away from the rest of society.

My mom was up for babysitting duty that night, so Joe and I hit the mall as soon as we could break free of the station. I had picked out a particularly good candid picture taken at our wedding, and dropped it off at the print shop to be made into Christmas cards. The cards were due to be finished today, and I was antsy to get a look at them. Our first Christmas cards. I was like a little kid too far from the bathroom as I waited in line, jiggling one foot, then the other. Jangling my keys, blowing my bangs up out of my eyes in frustration, and generally making a nuisance of myself. Joe just shook his head at my antics until we were finally at the front of the line.

"Christmas cards for Morelli," I said quickly to the clerk. Joe hid a smile. Yeah, I still got a charge out of being a Morelli, and wasn't afraid to show it.

"Man, I must have fifteen Morellis in here. First name?" Ugh. Mental head slap. Joe's family was huge. I was lucky there were only fifteen Morellis left in the drawer. "Joe or Stephanie." More shuffling.

"On Slater," I added.

"Here you go," the clerk handed up a thick envelope, and I practically tore it from his grasp.

I left Joe to pay while I examined the cards. I had decided on a postcard style so I could just write a quick note and address on the back. The front of the card was completely taken up by a black and white photograph. Sofi was in my arms, and grinning toothlessly at the camera. I was still dressed in my bridal gown, Joe in formal black next to me with his arms around us both. We were both gazing down at Sofi, and the only point of color on the whole thing was Joe's red rose boutonniere. The edges of the photo faded into the shared white of wedding and christening gowns, and the bright red ink at the bottom edge read simply, "Merry Christmas from the Morellis". I smiled in appreciation. Joe peered over my shoulder, our cards paid for and nodded his approval. "I like it," he said.

We didn't have a list, exactly, and just wandered from store to store picking out things we thought our friends and family would like. I figured I would go through everything later in the week and figure out who didn't have a present yet and we'd make another trip, but for tonight it was nice to just have a laid back evening. Joe went predictably nuts in the toy store, picking out many more toys than we could ever fit inside the house, let alone Sofi's room. I didn't want to dampen his enthusiasm, but did have to point out more than a few times that something rated for ages five and up probably wouldn't appeal to a baby who was not yet crawling.

We settled in for a late dinner at a small Italian place two blocks over from the mall, then picked up Sofi and headed home. Saturday was set aside for taking Sofi out to pick our first Christmas tree, and we'd tentatively penciled in a panoply of holiday parties for the department, both families, and old friends. We'd be lucky to have a night off between now and New Year's, but I had to admit I the thought of spending Christmas with Joe was downright intoxicating.

Saturday dawned crisp and cold, with leaden skies that promised snow before the end of the day. I bundled Sofi in about seventeen layers of coats and blankets as Joe loaded guy-stuff in the back of the Explorer. While I packed diapers and a thermos of coffee, Joe was throwing in ropes, saws, elastic tie downs, an old tarp, and other things I didn't want to think about. I don't remember my Dad ever buying a tree anywhere but from the local tree lot. MaryLou assured me that taking the kids out into the weather and cutting our own tree would be well worth the memories, but I was still worried that Joe and I were out of our respective elements. God knew why we would need C-clamps and a ratchet set, but Joe was loading them into the Explorer anyway. Maybe it would be best if we left before he had the chance to empty the entire garage. I gave him a dirty look when he came out carrying the car creeper for changing the oil, and he gave me a sheepish grin before tossing it back into the corner of the garage. "Ready?" he asked innocently.

"More than ready," I replied, wondering what on earth he was thinking we were going to do with all this crap.

Joe apparently took exception to my casting aspersions on his masculinity by looking askance at the assorted junk that now littered the back of the Explorer. He set his jaw, and drove purposefully toward MaryLou and Lenny's house. He honked perfunctorily, and MaryLou's three kids scrambled all over each other in a valiant effort to secure a coveted seat by the window. Since there were only two back seat windows in MaryLou's car, and three kids, I could see trouble was brewing. Outmaneuvered by his older siblings, the youngest, Mikey, began to yowl, affording us an excellent view of his tonsils. If the kid got any louder, we would probably see breakfast.

Lenny gave us a jaunty wave as he came out the door and nonchalantly scooped up the screaming banshee and buckled him into his booster seat in the center of the back seat. Lenny seemed immune to the flailing arms and legs, as well as deaf to his youngest son's protests. Joe and I glanced at each other, then back at Sofi. She was happily sucking her fingers and watching the string of small toys attached to her car seat with infinite concentration. Thank God. Maybe it was an acquired skill, but I was really hoping it was a skill I wouldn't be required to learn.

MaryLou was still buttoning herself into her coat as she locked the back door. She ambled over to my window. "It's less than an hour. Just stay behind us, okay?" I nodded, not willing to try to shout over the top of MaryLou's still shrieking offspring. "I can't wait! This is going to be so much fun!" she enthused. I nodded again, a little more weakly this time, and sent up a silent prayer that Joe and I were in our own vehicle instead of stuck with the screamer.

We followed Lenny out of town and over twisting, winding roads with no shoulder. Joe was a very competent driver, but I was still glad that the weather was still holding. The scenery moved from the skeletal gray trees to thick evergreens as we gained elevation, and I realized this area would be really spectacular once the snow started. After almost an hour of driving, Lenny pulled into the large gravel parking lot of the aptly named "Christmas Tree Village." Piped Christmas music blared as soon as we opened the doors. Huge plastic candy canes dominated the landscape, along with acres and acres of deep green pine trees. Hand-painted wooden signs promised a hay ride, visits with Santa, and a gift shop, among other things, not the least of which was the selection of trees. It could have been hokey and overdone, but watching Sofi's eyes grow round at the sight of all the twinkling lights, instead the day became magic. Lenny corralled the three kids who were walking, and they animatedly chattered about what they wanted to do first. Their eyes were bright, and smiles covered their little faces, and I began to understand MaryLou's attachment to the little turkeys. Lenny set Mikey up on his shoulders, and his older brother, Kenny, held onto MaryLou. Diana, the oldest Stankovic kid was twirling in circles. Kind of like Wonder Woman, I thought to myself, and I laughed. MaryLou had wanted to name her oldest, her daughter, after me, but I figured the poor kid would have some kind of serious psychological scars if she was stuck with a name like Stephanie Stankovic. Instead, MaryLou had named her Diana, but she'd never really said if she'd picked the name from the Princess of Wales, or after the Wonder Woman character we had watched so avidly. Diana was in my niece, Mary Alice's, class in school, and I knew they sometimes played together.

Pretty soon, Diana had fallen behind the rest of her family, since she was twirling to their walking. "Whatcha doing, Diana?" I asked conversationally.

"I'm practicing to be a ballerina," she said, deadly serious.

"Do you take ballet lessons?" asked Joe.

"No," she said airily. "I'm teaching myself." Joe smothered a grin and watched her twirl determinedly. After another fifty yards or so, I think she either got dizzy or got tired, because she glommed onto Joe's hand and started chattering. She told him about her books, her Barbies, how annoyed she got when her brothers twisted the heads off, she told him about a dream she'd had the night before. Joe was looking a little dazed, and I don't think Diana had even paused for breath as she airily chattered about one completely unrelated thing after another. She told him earnestly about a boy at school who kept pulling her hair, and told him about her upcoming First Communion. His eyes got round and wicked when she told him her parents were getting old and liked to take lots of naps on Saturdays. And all the while she just swung on his hand, never pausing in her stream of consciousness babble.

We got in line for the hay ride, and Diana ensconced herself right next to Joe and continued her chatter. Joe was starting to look a little overwhelmed, but I don't know why he was looking at me. I had no clue how to plug the dike that was Diana's mouth. Finally, MaryLou noticed Joe's increasing discomfiture. "Diana," she called. "Why don't you think about how you will write this in your journal tonight, okay? Silently."

"Okay," said Diana, and just like that the verbal barrage stopped. Joe looked impressed, and I have to admit I was too. I mentally tucked away the technique under the file in my head marked, "The Ten Million Things I Don't Know About Parenting." Joe breathed a sigh of relief, still looking a little bemused that so many words could flow from a relatively small person at such speed. I noticed he also managed to scooch himself over until I was seated between him and Diana as a buffer once we made it into the back of the wagon.

The air was cold and crisp, with just a hint of snow still on the edge. We snuggled Sofi between us so she wouldn't get cold, and began to enjoy the spectacular scenery. Just as we were really starting to feel like the cold might be a bit much, we pulled up in front of a small rustic cabin. We stiffly climbed out of the back of the wagon, and the kids whooped and hollered as they hit the cabin door. Inside, there were coffee and hot chocolate waiting, and platters of Christmas cookies. The downstairs of the cabin was furnished with comfortable padded benches, while the loft above held an assortment of toys and games for the kids. The Stankovic kids disappeared up the ladder while the rest of us gratefully gathered around the stone fireplace with hot drinks. We laughed and talked like we hadn't been able to in ages. Joe and Lenny pretty much stuck to football teams, but MaryLou and I had a great time catching up. I could never repay MaryLou for standing by me in the depths of my despair while I was pregnant with Sofi, and the best part was she never would have expected any kind of repayment. We had been friends since we were five years old, and I sincerely hoped Sofi would find a friend as stalwart as MaryLou in a few years.

We gathered up the kids again, and headed toward the Santa pictures. MaryLou's kids all beamed brilliantly from Santa's lap, and they got some great pictures. Sofi, on the other hand, balked repeatedly at being handed over to this stranger, and set up a screaming fit when we tried to take her picture. Apparently, Santa was on the list of people she didn't like, and no amount of cajoling from me or Joe made any difference. She didn't want anything to do with that bearded fiend, thank you very much all the same. I sighed in resignation, and sadly realized I would probably miss out on the whole picture with Santa thing. Sofi was really insistent.

MaryLou and I picked up a few goodies from the gift shop, and I bought some Christmas ornaments to commemorate our outing to buy our first Christmas tree. I even managed to find a "Baby's First Christmas" ornament with a spot for a picture. Granted, Sofi's picture wouldn't include Santa, but I was sure I could find something suitable from the wedding candids.

The natives were starting to get restless at this point, and I found a discreet corner to nurse Sofi while Joe and Lenny took the older kids to start picking out trees. I figured it would take them awhile, and better to have Sofi sleeping than screaming. MaryLou and I joined back up with them several rows of trees later, and none of them was any closer to making a decision than they had been when we started.

My feet were starting to get cold, even with the heavy socks Joe had bought for me, and I was ready to call it a day. "How about that one," I pointed out a reasonable looking specimen to Joe.

"Not big enough," he replied. "How about that one?" He, in turn, pointed to a twelve foot monster that wouldn't even fit in the door of the living room.

I shook my head. "This one, then." I showed him a perfectly respectable blue spruce a few feet away.

He shook his head in disdain. "It looks puny."

I sidled up to Joe and whispered in his ear, "Joe, if we're talking trees as phallic symbols, we're never going to get anything that will fit through the front door. Concentrate on finding something Sofi-sized."

Joe blushed to the roots of his hair, and I just about did a war-whoop at being able to tease the biggest smartass in Trenton. I contained my glee, however, even as I could see that he was secretly pleased. He finally cleared his throat and said, "Well, that blue spruce is pretty nice."

Uh huh. Joe went and got the saw and Sofi and I cheered him on as he outsmarted the hapless tree and eventually got it cut down. He looked positively triumphant, however, and I smothered another grin. Sofi and I went and climbed into the Explorer while Joe paid for the tree and started the laborious process of tying the thing to the top of the SUV. After a lot of false starts, swearing, and knots in the rope, Joe eventually got the thing cinched down to his satisfaction, and we waved goodbye to the Stankovics. As we pulled back onto the blacktop, Joe stopped suddenly and pulled me to him. "Phallic symbol, my ass," he growled as he rammed his tongue down my throat.

When I could breathe again, I responded, "No, but close…" Joe laughed and we motored home with the storm on our heels all the way back to Trenton.

A furious nor'easter blew in right behind us, and I was grateful to be snug at home as the wind and ice howled outside. Joe built a massive fire in the fireplace while I heated up some canned soup in the kitchen. For all my lack of culinary credentials, I can wield a can opener with the best of them, and canned soups had improved markedly since my childhood's Campbell's Chicken Noodle. I found some stuff that started out with "Roasted Garlic" and decided that sounded good. I put on a pot of coffee for good measure. I wasn't necessarily in the mood for coffee, but with the storm sounds growing more ominous by the minute, anything warm and homey helped to stave off old man winter.

I heard the front door slam, and a tendril of icy air reached clear from the front room to wrap itself around my ankles in the kitchen. Joe's hair and eyebrows were frosted with ice pellets, but the Christmas tree stood triumphant in the front window. Joe looked about half frozen even after just a short time outside, and I kicked a few pillows over next to the fire. Joe took the soup gratefully and wrapped his hands around the hot bowl. "Nasty out there," he remarked, unnecessarily.

"You could have left the tree," I said.

"Cupcake, have you looked out there? Two more hours and that tree would have been frozen solid to the top of the car. We would have been driving the damn thing around until March."

I chuckled at his exaggeration, although the sleet hitting the windows was starting to pick up velocity. Sofi began to squirm in her carseat, and I began the intricate task of unwrapping her from her many layers of blankets. "There she is," I exclaimed as I finally extricated her squirming body from the mess. "How's my girl? Did you have fun today?" Sofi enthusiastically waved her arms and legs at me and treated me to a full on Morelli grin. Some people might discount Sofi being able to understand yet, but at the very least she knew when someone was talking to her, and she made the most of it. Being besotted parents, Joe and I chose to believe she understood every single word and was doing her level best to tell me her favorite parts of our adventure. Her vocal skills just hadn't quite caught up with her brain yet, that was all.

Sofi was gurgling and cooing with tremendous emphasis when I went into the kitchen to retrieve the coffee. I returned just in time to find Joe sneaking her soup out of his spoon. "Joe," I said menacingly, and tapped my foot in agitation.

"What?" I recognized the Jersey reaction since I used it so often myself.

"Garlic soup, Joseph?" The tempo of my foot increased.

"Garlic has lots of antioxidants. We don't want her to catch cold," he said piously.

"Riiiiiiight."

"And it has ethnic and social meaning. Italians share food with people they love. It's an exercise in socialization. Sofi needs to learn her heritage."

"And you like spoiling her rotten."

Joe shrugged noncommittally.

"Does she actually like that garlic soup?"

Joe gave a sheepish one-shoulder shrug. "More than mashed potatoes. Not as much as Ben and Jerry's or the pumpkin pie we had for Thanksgiving."

"Good Lord, Joe, what all have you been feeding her?"

"She really likes marinara," he volunteered.

I rolled my eyes. It was hopeless. Utterly, fucking hopeless. Then I looked again at Sofi, with her bright little eyes and happy personality. And I looked at how she and Joe looked at each other as he fed her another spoonful of soup. Well, she might get food allergies, but she'd have one hell of an educated palate. "You know about the no honey thing for babies, right? And no peanutbutter till we're sure she's not allergic."

"Of course."

"Ben and Jerry's, Joe?" I was still aghast.

"Chubby Hubby. I picked out the pretzels," he added virtuously.

"Well thank God for that," I said. Joe made a big production out of ignoring my sarcasm. "I'm going to go up and change. Do you think you can keep from emptying the entire contents of the refrigerator down her gullet while I'm gone?"

"I'll try to restrain myself." Finally successful in getting under his skin, even if it was just a little bit, I chuckled all the way up the stairs.

When I came back downstairs, Sofi was starting to fuss. I wondered if the garlic soup had curdled in her stomach. Joe handed her to me, "Sofi says the soup was great, but Mom tastes better."

"Oh, she does, does she?" Sofi was frantically trying to root through my sweater, so I made quick work of getting her latched on. Joe leaned in and gave me a deep, thorough kiss.

"Sofi's right. Such a smart girl." He gave me the wicked grin, and I melted.

"Give me fifteen minutes, and I'll take you up on it." Joe laughed and disappeared up the stairs himself.

I heard clanking and banging up in the attic, but didn't pay too much attention. I was focused on Sofi. She was such an amazing little girl. Already her personality was well-defined, and when she looked up at me with those big, trusting brown eyes I felt like I could conquer the world for her. I smooched her tiny hands and feet while she nursed, and told her how absolutely spectacular she was. She ate with gusto, and snuggled up gleefully when I tickled her. I was still lost in my daughter's eyes when a loud whump landed right next to me, along with a huge cloud of dust.

I looked up at Joe through the dust motes. "Christmas decorations," he explained proudly. He dusted some stray cobwebs from his dark hair. "Aunt Rose's mostly, and some of them are pretty old. I figured we could pick out the ones we like and just put the rest back in the attic." I am a sucker for an unopened box. Who knew what kind of treasures we might find? I quickly adjusted Sofi's seat so she could see the tree and the fireplace, and went over to the first box to start ripping frantically at the tape.

Joe laughed and offered his pocketknife to help with the tape. Soon we were all three surrounded by mounds of ancient tissue paper, and a growing stack of glass ornaments. Nestled in among the antique treasures were other ornaments Aunt Rose had obviously prized just as highly. A faded paper chain with "Mary, 1968" on one of the loops, a lace angel emblazoned with a very uneven "Cathy" on her back, and a slightly lopsided reindeer made of clothespins with "Joey" scrawled on the bottom. We slowly unearthed older offerings from Tony and Paulie, as well as other assorted Morelli cousins. Joe told stories of the ornaments he knew, like the glass and gold filigree that Aunt Rose and Uncle Milo had bought the Christmas before he died, and the really old hand-blown glass ornaments that had come from Italy generations of Morellis ago. I went at one point and got my small box of ornaments I'd salvaged from my apartment. They weren't a lot, but I had looked long and hard for the little ceramic mouse that looked like Rex. I had bought it the year I'd gotten him, and broken off the mouse's overly long tail to complete the resemblance. There were Popsicle stick offerings from my own childhood, and more recent craft attempts from Mary Alice and Angie. I found the silver angel MaryLou had sent me during my first year of college, and the cheesy plastic cello that Sally Sweet had given me last year as a joke. I found the ringbox Joe had given me several Christmases ago that had held my blue friendship ring that I now wore on my right hand. He smiled when he saw the bow and hanger adorning the box, and I just smiled back. It was nice not making explanations. He knew why I had kept the ring box, and so did I, and we were both happy it was adorning our first Christmas tree. I finally unwrapped the new ornaments I'd bought today, and dug through the desk for an appropriate picture of Sofi for the "Baby's First Christmas" ornament. I looked up to find Joe adding a single dangly gold earring that I'd lost years before after a particularly athletic round of making love.

I cocked my head at Joe, entranced at the idea of him hanging my earring on his Christmas tree year after year. He just smiled and said, "It was waiting for you all along, Cupcake."


	16. Chapter 16

We burrowed into the house on Sunday and let the storm blow itself out. I was beginning to really cherish these quiet happy hours with Joe and Sofi, and even big, goofy Bob. The dog had adapted amazingly well to the baby. He stationed himself at the bottom of the stairs every night like a big, shaggy sentinel. My clothes and Joe's still disappeared with amazing regularity, but for some unknown reason, Bob never touched Sofi's things. Maybe he thought her tiny bootees and hats weren't worth the effort to snack on.

Winter had taken over in earnest with the big weekend nor'easter. Monday morning brought frigidly cold weather that left ears and noses numb within seconds of going outside. Despite her warm cocoon of blankets, Sofi audibly gasped every time we moved her from the car to the house, and I felt so sorry for her. Joe dropped me off by the station door before going to park, and I have to admit my own breath caught from the cold. I barreled through the back door to wait inside for Joe to catch up with me, and ran smack into Ranger and Tank. They were collecting a body receipt, and I wondered which hapless FTA had been caught in the Trenton Deep Freeze.

I walked over nonchalantly. "Hey," I said in greeting. "Who'd you pick up?"

"Mooner," answered Tank.

"He give you any trouble?" I asked conversationally, determined to keep things friendly and casual.

Ranger shot me a look. "He's in St. Francis. Thought his supersuit would keep him warm."

We all chuckled, then Tank offered, "Hope the boy didn't get frostbit anywhere important."

Remembering the skintight purple spandex, I shook my head in a useless attempt to clear the unwanted visual of Mooner's sad little frozen doodles.

A blast of icy air at my back told me Joe had blown in through the door. I gave Ranger and Tank an airy wave, and decided to quit while I was ahead. I bopped over to Joe with an intentionally breezy good humor and slipped my arms around his waist. "Hey, sailor, you look cold. I bet I could warm you up." I smiled my most beguiling smile up at Joe. His jaw was set and his eyes hard. He wasn't buying any of it. I nudged him with my shoulder. "Come on. Walk me up, would you?" I steered him toward the elevator. Finally one hand relaxed enough to slip down to my hip, only to insinuate itself boldly and visibly into my back pocket, neatly cupping my ass. I started to roll my eyes at this juvenile display of possession; but remembered my own response to finding Terry Gilman in my kitchen. When compared to the all out sexual assault I had visited on Joe's body to mark my territory, a hand on the ass was a small thing. I leaned into the front of Joe's jacket to whisper in his ear, "Promises, promises. But the ride up is only three floors." An involuntary chuckle finally rumbled loose low in his chest, and I could see the corners of his mouth quirking up. I teasingly kissed both corners before he could move away.

The elevator doors opened, and I entered the empty car with Joe, paying no more attention to the men in the corridor behind me, but instead concentrating on my husband. As the doors closed, I told him the story of Mooner's sad little frozen doodles, and he laughed. I looked up into the warmth of his gaze, and remorse washed over me once again that I had ever made this man feel like he was ever second best. The signal dinged at the third floor, and I went and held the elevator doors open with my body. "Hey, Joe?" I asked.

"Yeah, Cupcake." That was good. As long as I was Cupcake instead of Stephanie, things weren't too bad.

"I choose you. You, me and Sofi. Nothing else matters, remember?"

Joe moved so fast, I didn't even see him. Suddenly, I was crushed in his familiar embrace, and his mouth was devouring mine. The whistles and catcalls from the shift just coming on duty faded to insignificance, and I kissed Joe back with everything I had in me—all the pain, the anguish, the joy and the love. Joe cradled my face in his hands, and I blinked up at him through happy tears. "I have to go," he said regretfully.

"I know," I answered. I brushed a whisper of a kiss across his lips in farewell, then turned and walked down the hall to my shared office. I good-morninged Sheryl and Mike since Maggie was out sick. I was soon deeply immersed in the technicalities of mixing a picky chemical reaction. If I got distracted, the whole thing would degenerate into a useless mess and I'd have to start over. We were already slammed with Maggie gone, and I was hoping to get out of the office on time and maybe sneak in some Christmas shopping.

"Delivery for Stephanie Morelli?"

"Put it on the desk, wouldya?" I never moved my eyes from the counter, unwilling to botch this test and lose two hours' painstaking work. Once I was sure I had managed to get all the intricate details in place in the allotted time allowance, I breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to my desk. Long, lean legs stretched out on the desktop, and the black leather jacket made his eyes look even hotter and smokier than usual. He picked up an aromatic Pino's bag and dangled it enticingly in front of me. I looked around to see that Mike and Sheryl had left for lunch, leaving Joe and I alone in the lab. "Yum," I said. "So what do I owe you for a tip?" I asked archly. Joe rewarded me with that whiskey soaked chuckle, and I felt my stomach drop and my panties start to melt. Silently, he held out a small bud vase. Two blood red roses with a tiny pink sweetheart rose nestled in between, tied together with a small white ribbon.

"Sorry about this morning." Joe looked directly in my eyes, "I'm working on it."

I nodded, then just went over and curled up on his lap. "I happen to think you're wonderful."

"That's just because I brought you Pino's," he teased.

"Nope. It's just because you brought me flowers. Plus you're good in bed."

"Good? GOOD? Good is not what you were saying last night when I…" Joe's voice was getting louder with each word, and I stopped him the only way I could think of. I plastered my mouth across his, and he just sat there and roared with laughter. His laughter was infectious, and frankly I was just glad we had survived this morning's hurdle with so little collateral damage. Joe was obviously trying to put the past where it belonged, and I would help him however I could.

I settled in comfortably on his lap and tore open the Pino's bag, setting out our respective sandwiches with practiced ease. "So you up for some Christmas shopping tonight?" I asked.

Joe made a rude sound. "Cupcake, it's Monday." I looked at him blankly. "Football?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Okay, fine. I'll go with MaryLou instead. But you get Sofi."

"Fine. Unlike _some_ people, Sofi _likes_ football."

"I will have you know that I happen to like football too. I'm just willing to make the supreme sacrifice for you and go finish the Christmas shopping at the mall, just because I'm such a wonderful person. It's quite a hardship, you know," I teased.

"Yeah, you're a regular fucking philanthropist, Cupcake."

Showing a great deal of maturity and aplomb, I stuck my tongue out at him. He unceremoniously dumped me off his lap and announced he had to go back to work. I called MaryLou to see if she was up for shopping and if she could drive. She could, so I left Joe a voice mail telling him to take the car and MaryLou would pick me up when I got off work.

Joe stopped in again briefly during the afternoon to hand over a couple of credit cards. "Just make sure we still have a roof over our heads when you're done, Cupcake." He slid around the corner of the doorframe, then stuck his head back in as if he'd forgotten something. "And be sure to get something nice for my mother." He disappeared.

I flung myself out of my desk chair and around the corner, but he was long gone. Of all the sneaky underhanded things! Dumping his mother's Christmas present in my lap. Oh, I so don't think so.

"Joe, I have no clue what your mother wants for Christmas!" We were standing just inside the big double doors at the front of the Trenton police department, waiting for MaryLou to pick me up for the night's shopping expedition.

"Yeah, well, neither do I." He ran his hands through his hair, a sure sign of frustration. We'd been arguing in circles for the past ten minutes. "You're both women, just get her something you would like."

I gave him a fishy look. "You really want me to shop for your mother at Victoria's Secret, you just say the word."

Joe blew out an explosive sigh. "Look, I'm no good at this. Wouldya just look? Please?"

"Fine. I'll look. If something jumps out at me and sings 'buy me for Joe's mother', I'll pick it up for you." Fat chance.

"That's all I ask." Joe gave me an innocent look like I was the one being unreasonable, and I started to think I'd been had. Lucky for him, MaryLou pulled up and honked. Joe tried to distract me with a blazing kiss goodbye.

"I don't get distracted that easy," I told him, our lips still touching.

"Wanna bet?" He threw a wolfish grin over his shoulder as he jogged to the back lot to get the Explorer and go pick up Sofi.

It would serve him absolutely, positively right if I bought Angie Morelli a pair of crotchless leopardskin panties and left them under her Christmas tree. Yeah, right. I might talk big, but I was still pretty intimidated by Joe's mom, and no way would I have enough guts to actually do it. I blew my hair out of my face, and climbed into MaryLou's car. The heat was pumping full blast, thank God, but the smell of stale McDonald's Happy Meals was overpowering. I was enjoying catching up with MaryLou, but was feeling pretty green around the gills by the time we found a parking space at the mall.

The cold air revived me a bit once we got out into the parking lot, and I was actually starting to feel hungry by the time we hit the door at Macy's. Go figure.

"Where first?" asked MaryLou, scoping out the garish red sale signs hanging in midair what seemed like every three feet.

I gazed around in confusion. I had my list in my purse, but I hadn't actually come up with a plan of attack yet. And my stomach was really starting to protest its empty state. Jeez, lunch with Joe hadn't been that long ago, but I was famished. "How about we fuel up at the food court first, then figure out where we need to go?" I suggested. At this rate, I was hoping I wouldn't start chomping on the cardboard cutouts while we waited in line.

MaryLou nodded agreeably, as I knew she would. Dinner without having to stand at the stove dodging three kids had to be its own reward. It was still fairly early, so we snagged a table pretty easily, and set our food down. We both got out our shopping lists as we started in on dinner.

We started comparing notes about which stores we needed to hit, and MaryLou started laughing at me. "What?" I said around a mouth full of french fries.

"I just haven't seen you dunk french fries in ice cream since you were pregnant with Sofi last summer," she laughed. "You're not pregnant again, are you?"

I kept chewing, weighing the possibilities. "I dunno," I mumbled. "Maybe."

"Maybe? What do you mean maybe? Are you late?" Geez, MaryLou should have been a machine gun operator.

"I mean I'm nursing Sofi, and I haven't started up my periods yet. That's what I mean." I felt my face getting a mulish set to it, all kinds of defensive. I purposely swirled my biggest, fattest french fry right through the middle of my soft serve. I closed my eyes in ecstasy. Something about the way the cold ice cream made the grease congeal on the french fry…. Hoo boy. Something was wrong with this picture. My eyes popped back open, and I stared unblinkingly at MaryLou.

"But you're on birth control, right?" she asked, very, very quietly.

I silently shook my head, and her eyes got really round. I gave a half-hearted shrug, "We haven't talked about it?" I have no idea how that came out as a question, but it did. I did the mental head slap thing, and downed another ice cream coated fry. "There's a drug store here in the mall, right?"

MaryLou jumped up. "I'll go. You finish your…whatever," giving a disgusted look at my half-melted ice cream and now soggy fries.

Left alone, I had nothing but my own racing thoughts for company. I thought back to Grandma Bella the morning after I'd come back to Trenton and taken Joe back into my bed. A boy, she'd said. I hadn't paid any attention at the time, too distracted by the presence of Joe to think straight. To be perfectly honest, I hadn't thought about a whole heck of a lot besides Joe in the previous six weeks since I'd been home anyway.

A son.

Joe's son. I grinned at the thought. God, he would be over the moon. We hadn't even talked about having more children yet, but I knew Joe wanted more than one. I remembered worrying about Sofi being my only shot at motherhood and laughed at how quickly I might be proven wrong. Where the hell had MaryLou gone for the damn test? Another state? The mall just wasn't that big. I threw away the garbage from our table and scoped out the closest ladies room.

I was waiting impatiently by the swinging door when I saw MaryLou dart back into the food court. I waved her over impatiently, and practically ripped the small paper bag out of her hands before flinging the door open. "Does your watch have a second hand?" I asked from inside the stall.

"Yeah, but I think this is only supposed to work first thing in the morning, Steph. It always says to do it when you first wake up."

"Piss on that."

We both laughed at my unintentional pun, a little hysterical to tell the truth.

"Okay, give me three minutes."

"Go."

The silence was deafening. MaryLou finally broke it, "So what are you going to tell Joe?"

"Hopefully, I'm going to tell him he's going to be a father again."

"So you're okay with this? You're happy about it?"

I stopped and thought for a minute. Yup, that little well of giddiness down low in my gut was definitely happiness. "Thrilled. Honest. Oh, God, MaryLou," and my voice fell. "What if I'm not?"

MaryLou laughed, "Then just keep doing what you're doing, and you will be." I laughed too, a little shakily. Apparently, Morellis could worm their way into my heart with lightning speed. First Joe, then Sofi, and now this new little Whosit that I wasn't even sure existed yet. The thought of no Whosit was breaking me up.

"Time," said MaryLou.

I couldn't see the damn test strip. I stopped and blew my nose and wiped my eyes. I looked again. "There's a little pink heart," I said. Little boys shouldn't have pink hearts. What was wrong with this test?

MaryLou slowly pushed the stall door open and peeked in at me. "Congratulations, Mom."

I looked from MaryLou to the little pink heart and back, and I felt a huge grin come over my face. Laughter burbled up from a deep well of happiness inside me, and I threw my arms around MaryLou's neck. "Oh, my God!" MaryLou hugged me and we danced around the bathroom, giggling and squealing like a couple of teenagers.

Eventually, some blue haired old ladies came in to use the bathroom, and MaryLou and I rolled out the door, still laughing. "Okay," I said, "We still have to get shopping done." I slowly ran my hand down my still-flat stomach, and my eyes unfocused. "Wow."

Almost against my will, I remembered my panicked reaction to being pregnant with Sofi, and that ugly scene in the alley that started with Ranger's embrace and ended with Joe's broken heart. My heart squeezed. I hoped and prayed with everything in me that Sofi had never known, even for an instant, that I was anything less than thrilled to be her mother. That anguished moment in Ranger's arms juxtaposted itself against my giddy hugs with MaryLou. Chronologically, only a few months separated the two embraces, but they were worlds apart. A lifetime apart, in fact. Sofi's lifetime. I smiled at the thought of my little daughter, and all she had brought me in the last year. She was going to be a big sister. The Morellis were going to have a baby. No second thoughts, no worries, no angst. Just Joy.

Joy.

The word caught my attention hanging from yet another ubiquitous "sale" sign, this one outside a jewelry store. On display were a collection of Italian charms for the holidays, and one said "Joy". I had never been a fan of regular charm bracelets with their dangling, haphazard things hanging off of them. The sleek simplicity of the Italian charm bracelets really caught my attention. The candy-cane lettering of "Joy" was a bit off-putting, but then I noticed that further back were birthstone charms, engraved with names. In a moment's flash of inspiration, I knew what the grandmothers would get for Christmas. I whipped out my cell and made a quick call to Cathy, Joe's older sister and wrote frantically for a few minutes, then went inside to talk to the salesman.

I heaved a sigh of relief. The bracelets could hold up to twelve charms each, and Mrs. Morelli had eleven grandchildren. That left room for Whosit. I placed the engraving order with the right birth months, all the way from Dominick down to little Sofi, and then added an August peridot charm with a question mark and the year engraved. I figured I could replace the charm next year when the new baby had actually arrived, but in the meantime Mrs. Morelli would have a Christmas gift to remind her of her future grandchild. I ordered the appropriate charms for Angie, MaryAlice, Lisa and Sofi, then added an identical peridot charm for my mother. Well-pleased with the "Mother Presents" as I thought of them, MaryLou and I tore through the mall with our lists and presented ourselves back at the jeweler's right before closing. I inspected each charm carefully, making sure that the right name went with the right month, then watched while the jeweler installed the charms on the bracelets. I had to make him do Mrs. Morelli's over because he got the kids out of order. Thank God for Cathy and her list. At the last minute, I snagged an extra jewelry box and bow from the jeweler, and tucked it into our shopping bags.

"What are you going to do with the extra box?" asked MaryLou.

"I'm going to give it to Joe," I smiled back at her. When we got in the car, I carefully dropped the pregnancy test into the jeweler's box, and retied the bow.

"You call me tomorrow and give me details!" yelled MaryLou as she dropped me off in front of the house. I waved in acknowledgement, then bustled up the walk, half hidden by my monstrous mound of shopping bags.

I breezed in the door to find Joe and Sofi just finishing a disappointing (for him) football game. I smiled to myself. I knew how to turn that frown upside down. Joe eyeballed the prodigious display of presents and asked, "Did you leave anything in the mall for anybody else?"

"Of course not," I replied nonchalantly, dropping the bags behind the sofa. I would sort them out and tag them tomorrow. I kept the jeweler's bag in my hand as I went to go join Joe on the sofa. Sofi had fallen out watching football with Daddy, and he carefully placed her in her bouncy seat next to the couch. Joe looked at the bag ostentatiously emblazoned with the jeweler's logo like it might have snakes in it.

"Do I need Maalox before you show me what you got at the jewelry store?"

"Nope, but you owe me big time." I grinned.

I pulled out the three identical boxes. I could tell by weight whose was whose. "I have something for your mother, something for my mother, and something for you."

"For me?" he asked.

I nodded. "I want you to open your present now."

"Sure you don't want me to wait until Christmas?"

"I'm sure."

Joe took the box and shook it, looking a little confused when there was no metallic rattling. He pulled off the lid and stared at the plastic strip nestled in the cotton. I had even added a little ribbon bow on the handle. "A pregnancy test?" he asked.

I nodded. "Sofi's?"

I shook my head slowly from side to side.

His eyes burned into mine, and a slow smile began to spread over his features, lighting his face from within. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," I said quietly. The next thing I knew I was flying through the air as Joe spun me around the livingroom. I looked into his shining face, and didn't even have to ask if he was happy.

A flicker of pain crossed his eyes and he said, "This is the way it should have been."

I wrapped my arms around him, "I know. Just don't let go, okay?"

"Never, Cupcake."


	17. Chapter 17

The next two weeks passed in a whirlwind of activity. Trenton's criminal element had gone into overdrive in honor of the upcoming holidays, keeping the lab working at full capacity, and Joe out on the cold dark streets. We juggled work and precious time with Sofi and each other along with holiday parties and family gatherings. By Christmas Eve, I was really hoping Santa was going to bring me a nice, long nap.

Instead, I found myself standing in front of the full length mirror, smoothing down the soft red wool knit dress. I turned, and looked from every possible angle. The dress was fitted without being revealing, and so far my tummy was cooperative and still flat, with no tell-tale bump to give away Whosit's existence. With all the frenzy leading up to Christmas, Joe and I had opted not to tell anyone else about the new baby yet. All that would change tonight, and I smiled in anticipation. The grandmothers' gifts were wrapped and waiting on the table by the front door.

Joe walked up behind me, still warm and damp from his shower, the towel slung low on his hips. He kissed the side of my neck and I met his gaze in the mirror. His right hand stole around my waist, to dip down and cradle our unborn son. "How you two doing?" I shivered as his breath played over the hair near my temple. The warmth of his hand on my belly and his breath on my neck were giving me very un-maternal impulses. I turned in his arms to gain a little more control over the situation.

Oops. My fingers automatically sifted through the dusting of hair on his hard chest. The rate of my breathing started to pick up. "Good," I murmured, not sure if I was answering Joe's question or remarking on his pecs. I felt, rather than saw the corners of Joe's mouth quirk upwards. I felt something else jerk convulsively against my stomach in response.

"Damn," said Joe quietly. "We're already late."

"So a few more minutes won't make any difference then, right?" I suggested, moving quickly for the zipper on my dress.

"Not at bit," said Joe, as he dropped his towel.

As it turns out, Mrs. Morelli's house was such a zoo that nobody noticed when we slinked in the back door a good half hour later than we were supposed to arrive. Christmas Eve dinner was a moveable feast, with random Morellis balancing heaping plates in some very unlikely places. I thought for sure that there were going to be more than a few marinara disasters, but everyone seemed to be old hands at the balancing act. I kissed Grandma Mazur on the cheek as I passed her, and handed off Sofi to my father on my way to the buffet table. My mother was still pretty upset that Valerie had turned down Mrs. Morelli's invitation to Christmas Eve dinner and midnight mass, but Dad and Grandma seemed to be in good spirits.

Personally, I was still up in the air over the whole thing. My mother had been consumed with "Valerie's Decision", as it had come to be known, complete with capital letters. Since Albert was Jewish, Valerie had decided to forego Christmas this year, or at least the religious aspects of it. After bouncing messages back and forth between my mother and my sister I felt a little like a human pin-ball, and just about as confused. I wasn't clear if Val had decided to convert, if she was just humoring Albert (or more likely Albert's mother), if she was just trying things on for size or what. I figured the bottom line it was up to Valerie and Albert what they did, but that didn't make it any easier on my mother. I had noticed the significant looks she had directed toward Valerie at Sofi's christening. Lisa still hadn't been baptized, and my mother was not happy about it.

Speak of the devil, I mean, my mother. "Stephanie, thank God."

"What's wrong, Mom?" I tried really hard to not sound put upon, since it was Christmas after all, but I really had heard it all before in the preceding two weeks since Valerie announced she was skipping Christmas Eve mass and the Morelli dinner. Repeatedly.

"Nothing, nothing," she denied, a little too shrilly. "At least I have one daughter I can count on." She patted my arm, those three familiar short taps, and I had to stop and look behind me to make sure my sister hadn't come into the room. Slowly, it dawned on me that my mother was talking about ME. I smiled a little weakly, and excused myself, feeling just a little sick.

Is this what it felt like to be Valerie?

Somehow, the weight of expectation was no more comfortable than the weight of disappointment, and I made a mental note to talk to my sister about it at some future point. I found myself standing next to Grandma Bella, reigning over the great Morelli brood from her diminutive throne of a rocking chair in the corner of the living room. "Merry Christmas, Grandma Bella," I said dutifully, my smile pinned firmly in place. Grandma Bella may have warmed up to me since I married Joe, but she was still an indomitable force, especially in the Morelli clan, and only a fool didn't tread carefully around her.

She looked up at me with those astonishing chocolate eyes, and for a moment I could see Sofi smiling up at me through the old woman's wrinkled visage. "Our Sofi is a beauty, yes?"

"Yes," I agreed without hesitation. Sofi was the single most beautiful baby on the entire planet, as we all knew.

"And the new one?" she asked.

I knelt down and looked around carefully, grateful that the Morellis were generally loud talkers and nobody was beating a path to Grandma Bella.

"Nobody knows," I said frantically. I didn't want her to spoil our surprise.

"I know," she said firmly.

I smiled back at her. "Yes. You always knew. But we're going to make an announcement later tonight for everybody else. Joe wants it to be a surprise." I knew Bella—if Joe wanted to flap his arms and fly to the moon, she would be right there cheering him on. If Joe wanted a surprise, a surprise he would have.

She nodded sagely, and moved her wrinkled old index finger up to her papery lips and made the universal sign for shushing. I smiled in response, and my hand unconsciously smoothed the wool of my dress over my belly as I stood. Joe caught my eye over a Morelli shoulder, and grinned at me knowingly. I smiled back, sharing the warm secret across a crowded room. Joe's eyes darkened, and I felt my breath catch in response. Ever since I got pregnant with Sofi, I loved carrying Joe's baby, like a small secret part of him buried deep inside me, and it left me in a near-constant state of arousal. I sheepishly told Joe about it, only to have him confess that he found it a complete turn on knowing that a part of him stayed inside of me all the time, even when we weren't physically connected. Probably we were both doomed to hell for being sex fiends, but as long as I was with Joe, I decided I didn't care.

Joe snaked his way through the crush of people to join me at Grandma Bella's side. "You get enough to eat?" Joe asked solicitously. I nodded, unable to speak as his warm hand slid down to cradle the baby. Grandma Bella beamed approvingly. Joe gave me a quick kiss on top of my head then asked, "Okay, then, are you ready?" I nodded enthusiastically. I liked the idea of a surprise, but keeping Whosit a secret was killing me. I wanted to shout the news and flaunt my belly to let the world know that Joe loved me.

Joe rattled the boxes in his coat pocket, and we went off in search of both the mothers, stopping every three feet to exchange small talk with whichever Morelli happened to be standing there. I was getting impatient, and nudged Joe to hurry. I wanted the announcement done before we left for Midnight Mass.

Joe grinned at my impatience, and soon we had picked up my mother in our conga line and cornered Joe's mom in the kitchen. "Joe, just let me take out this platter," she started to say. Joe took the platter from his mother, and set it down firmly on the counter.

"In a minute, Mom. This is important." My mother and Mrs. Morelli exchanged glances, and Mrs. Morelli sat down hard on a kitchen chair.

"Is something wrong with Sofi?" she asked anxiously. My mother was clutching her rosary beads so tightly her knuckles were like chalk, obviously thinking along the same lines.

"No, no," protested Joe. "Nothing like that. We just wanted to give you your Christmas gifts now. Together." At that, Joe removed the jeweler's boxes from his pocket and handed each to the appropriate woman.

My mother caught her breath when she picked up the charm bracelet. The sleek silver lozenges danced in the light of Joe's mother's kitchen. She began to finger each link with its tiny birthstone and engraved name. "Oh, it's just lovely," she exclaimed. I was watching her face closely as she worked her way around the bracelet to the question mark. She frowned slightly. "What's this?" she asked.

"It's a peridot," replied Joe. "For August." He paused for effect. "For the new one." My mother looked over and noticed Joe's proprietary hand on my belly for the first time, and her eyes widened.

"Oh, my God," she breathed, and held her arms out to me. I laughed through my tears, and gathered her up in a warm hug. "Oh, my baby!" she cried. "You're going to have another baby. I can't tell you how happy I am!" She was crying through her tears, but by then so was I.

I looked over at Joe, and he was wiping a tear from his mother's cheek. She turned to me and held out her arms, just like my mother had just done. I leaned in for a hug, and she whispered to me, "Thank you. Thank you for my beautiful grandchildren, and thank you for making my Joseph so happy."

I sniffed and replied, "Making Joe happy is easy. I just wish I'd started sooner." Mrs. Morelli shook her head at me.

"No regrets, Stephanie. Life is too short." She straightened her back and seemed to gather her dignity back around herself. "And thank you, sweetheart, for this beautiful grandmother's bracelet. Don't try to tell me my son picked it out. I have quite a collection of crock pots and vacuum cleaners from him. But this," she held up her arm, and I could see she was really pleased with the bracelet. "This is from my sweet daughter in law. Thank you, Sweetheart." Mrs. Morelli beamed at me, and I felt a warm glow start building. Mrs. Morelli really liked me.

"You're welcome, Ma," I said. Note to self: in the Morelli family, 'Mom' is for your own mother, and 'Ma' for your mother in law. Wish Joe had shared that a little sooner. I looked over to see my mother hugging Joe for all she was worth. He was her miracle worker. Not only had he married her wayward daughter, he'd provided multiple grandchildren in a record time. My mother looked at Joe like he had hung the moon.

I think the estrogen was starting to get to Joe. He cajoled the mothers, kissed their cheeks, then gave a mock scowl to his own mother. "I will have you know that I get at least partial credit! I may not have picked the bracelet, but I picked the daughter in law." Ma Morelli laughed at him, and agreed to give him partial credit.

As we walked back toward the livingroom, I went up on my tiptoes and whispered to Joe, "You SO owe me, Morelli."

"Cupcake, you can collect any time," he said, wearing my favorite wolfish grin. He grabbed my hand and pulled me after him as he went to the table and commandeered a glass of wine and a butter knife. He peremptorily gestured for quiet by sounding the knife on the edge of the glass and announced, "Before we leave for church to celebrate the birth of Christ together, please join Stephanie and I in celebrating another new life. Sofi's going to be a big sister!"

The cheer that resounded through the Morelli house could probably be heard in Pennsylvania, and Joe and I were soon surrounded in a sea of hugging arms and were being soundly kissed by a multitude of Morellis.

My father found me a few minutes later and crushed me in a bear hug. He smiled down at me. "I guess I don't have to ask if you're happy, do I Pumpkin."

"I'm happy, Daddy."

"Obviously," he said, and patted my nonexistent belly. "How about a boy this time, huh? I loved having you girls, but I always wanted to help coach Little League. You know, I was quite a pitcher in my day," he said shyly.

"No, I didn't know," I said.

He shrugged and looked away. "Minor league. Wasn't anything big. My elbow gave out. But I could still coach peewees," he assured me.

I could feel Joe behind me, and turned to look up at him. He was looking speculatively from my father to my belly. I wasn't quite sure what that look meant, but I put my hand protectively over my stomach. Joey wasn't even close to being as big as a baseball yet, thank you, let alone throwing one. Joe and my father began to grin at each other, and I realized I was doomed to years spent in the scorching bleachers watching Little League.

"What about Sofi?" I blurted.

"What about her," said Joe.

"While you and Dad are off playing coach, what is Sofi going to do?"

Joe looked at me like I had lost my mind. "Whatever she wants, of course. Baseball, ballet, I don't care." He shot another look at my father. "I honestly hope she doesn't turn into a horse like Mary Alice, just because it's hard on the floors, but if that's what she wants…" he trailed off. My father nodded sagely in agreement.

Well, okay then. As long as Sofi wasn't going to get the short shrift of this testosterone thing, that was okay. And I didn't care if she wanted baseball or ballet, either, just as long as she was happy. I looked again from my father to Joe. Somehow, I didn't think these two quintessential Italian males would be quite so sanguine if Joey decided he liked ballet better than baseball, but that was a lot of years away, and I determined not to worry about it now.

Joe helped me into my coat, and we stepped outside to begin the short walk to the church for Midnight Mass. While we had been inside, the temperature had dropped, and a light snow was beginning to fall, coating everything in a powdery white. My hand was clasped in Joe's as we walked along, and I was reminded of the day we'd walked Bob together in companionable silence along these same streets. Every sidewalk, every bush and street sign were familiar old friends. Joe and I had lived our entire lives here in this snug community. If the ties that bound us here tightened uncomfortably now and then, they also supported and sustained us. As Morellis poured out of the open door behind us, I saw long-familiar neighbors streaming from their own homes to join us all in our nighttime pilgrimage to the church. We smiled at each other, familiar strangers and old friends mixed together. Word had spread from the Morelli tribe about our newest baby, and Joe and I were congratulated frequently on the short trip between the house and the church.

Sofi stared around her in wonder, completely entranced by the snow falling through the moonlight. She waved her starfish hands, then babbled in frustration when the pretty white flakes melted on her chubby little palms. Joe chuckled at her antics, and kissed her rosy cheeks. She responded by pounding heartily on the parts of his chest she could reach and squealing in delight. Nothing thrilled her more than undivided attention from her Daddy. I laid my head over to rest on Joe's shoulder, completely content for this perfect moment in time, walking along quietly in the snow, with my husband and daughter, our tiny son a warm glow low in my belly.


	18. Chapter 18

"Merry Christmas, Cupcake." I stretched lazily and rolled over to look at Joe standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His dark red sweater set off his Mediterranean looks to advantage, and his jawline showed just a smudge of shadow from his heavy beard. He had shaved before mass last night, but not this morning, and a pair of thick wool socks peeked from the hem of his well-worn jeans. I sighed in happy contentment.

"Merry Christmas yourself, Joe. Are you my present?" I wasn't quite up to full-on vamp mode when my eyelids weren't quite unstuck, but he looked so delicious I gave it my best shot. His chuckle flowed over me like rich dark chocolate, and I sat up as he set a tray across my legs.

"That will depend on Princess Sofi this morning, and how long we can get her to stay asleep," he remarked. It was true Sofi was starting to sleep later in the mornings, but she was by no means predictable. We might have a full hour to enjoy each other, or she could wake in the next two minutes, demanding her own breakfast.

I breathed in the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, enjoying the sensory overload before I even took my first sip. I swear I could feel the caffeine disseminating in my blood cells even as I took the first mouthful, and I practically groaned in delight. Joe gave me a hot look, and I offered him the coffee cup. Breakfast smelled really delicious, even aside from the coffee, and if I didn't get him distracted quickly, I knew I would be stuck with cold leftovers. Granted, it was usually worth the tradeoff, but we hadn't eaten much the day before, and my new pregnancy meant I woke up starving. "I can eat fast," I said around a mouthful of french toast "Especially if you help me." I held a wedge of toast in front of Joe's mouth, and he took an enormous bite, his gaze never leaving mine.

Then he started to lick the strawberry jam from my fingers, paying exquisite detail to the webbing between.

Oh, God.

I was done for.

Joe swept the tray from the bed without a lot of care for broken crockery or spills, but I was too busy getting myself horizontal to pay much attention. Joe was moving up the bed on all fours, a sleek, smooth predator in his element. My breathing got jagged, and starting coming in short staccato gasps as I locked eyes with my husband. His tongue traced the edges of my lips before dipping to the middle for a quick taste. I clutched at his shoulders, and was practically whimpering with desire when he suddenly collapsed on top of me, an unresponsive, inert weight. My head began to clear from its desire-induced fog, and I realized Joe was breathing unnaturally deep, and his face was taut with tension. "Joe?" I asked.

Just then, I heard it.

"Da!" Muffled, subdued, but unlikely to stay that way for long. I expelled my breath in a giant whoosh of air, willing my singing body to ratchet down.

Joe pushed himself up on his elbows and gave me a chagrined look. "Damn."

"Da!" More insistent this time.

"Coming, Sofi," Joe called.

"I wish," I muttered under my breath. I guess it wasn't quite under my breath because Joe shot me a pained look on his way out of the bedroom. I sighed again, and started reaching for my clothes. By the time we got Sofi up and ready for the day and opened some Christmas presents, it would be time to go to my parent's for Christmas dinner. With Valerie a no-show, there was no way I could beg off with my mom so upset, so I resigned myself to a day of sexual frustration.

I plodded into the shower, and the warm water started to revive both me and my Christmas spirit. After all, today was my first Christmas with Joe, and Sofi's first Christmas ever. I picked out a knee length black skirt and low cut tight sweater. I made sure my cleavage showed to maximum advantage. If I was going to have to be miserable all day, I would make darn sure that Joe suffered right along with me. Smiling at that cheery thought, I bopped down the stairs to join Sofi and Joe in front of the Christmas tree.

There were an obscene number of presents under our modest blue spruce, most addressed to Princess Sofi. I shook my head at the overindulgence, but she was enchanted by the twinkling lights and shiny glass balls, not to mention the gaily wrapped packages nestled under the tree. Sofi helped Joe distribute the presents, which mostly meant he disentangled her fingers from the bows and made a valiant attempt to keep her from ripping the paper off of each box before he could discover who it had sent it. It was pretty much a losing battle, but I was really enjoying watching them wage it. Sofi was wicked fast with her tiny fingers, and Joe's heart was never in denying her anything.

After the thirtieth demolished wrapper, Joe roared in mock-exasperation. "You are a menace," he informed a giggly Sofi, as he tossed her up in the air and caught her. "An absolute menace," he tossed her again. The first time, Sofi startled and her arms and legs flew out like a red velvet starfish. The second time she became airborne, Sofi discovered the joy of zero gravity. She chortled and flailed her arms and legs in a futile attempt to launch herself skyward.

"And Daddy has created a monster," I opined.

"That's my job," Joe replied.

"And a darn fine job you're doing, too, Detective." I leaned over and gave him a kiss, depositing a flat box in his lap. Sofi squealed in delight, and immediately went for the box, hands opening and closing madly in her gleeful attempt to rip and tear the paper.

"No, Sofi, this is Daddy's," Joe told her patiently. Sofi blinked twice at him, certain she had misheard him since she was the undisputed Princess of House Morelli, and she promptly redoubled her assault to gain control of the box. "Sofi…" Joe muttered, and moved her to the other arm, and the box out of harm's way in the opposite direction. Nothing for it then but an all out frontal assault, so Sofi threw herself after the box with complete abandon, absolutely certain that her Daddy would catch her no matter how she contorted herself. I stepped in and wrangled Sofi so that Joe could have a chance to open his present. What do you get the man who has everything? I had taken a bit of a gamble, and I was really hoping he would like what I chose. Sofi, in the meantime, grew indignant. I was an obvious interloper in her well-established game with Daddy, and that made me her enemy. Well, okay. But she could be distracted by those dangly earrings Daddy had bought Mommy for Christmas. If she could just get her pudgy hands on one and give it a good, solid yank, who knew what might happen? Her toys did interesting things and made funny sounds when she pulled and yanked on them, so why not her Momma? Just a little bit higher… but Momma was an old hand at this, and foiled Sofi's valiant attempts at gaining possession of the shiny earrings. Sofi sighed and looked at the blinking lights on the tree instead, wondering if the different colors meant different flavors, and how she could manage to get a taste.

Joe finally wrenched the lid off the flat box, and looked at what lay within. He didn't speak for a long time, and I was worried I had misjudged his interest. "Wow," he finally said, very quietly.

"Is that a good wow, or a she screwed up wow?" I asked uncertainly.

"That is an I haven't done this in years and can't believe you thought of it wow, Cupcake. Diving time. God, I haven't been diving in forever."

"Well, you mentioned a cruise for our honeymoon, and I thought some lessons before you went diving in the Caribbean might be a good idea." I trailed off, still not sure if this was a good thing.

"Yeah." He nodded, this time more enthusiastically. "Yeah. I hadn't even thought about it, but I could use this to get my certification upgraded. God, I love being under the water. It's like a whole different world. Quiet, serene. Everything moving in slow motion, just kind of floating." His eyes had grown distant, but he had a small smile on his face. He finally focused on my face again, and gave me the full-on, no bullshit, completely happy Morelli smile. "This is so cool. It's something I wouldn't have thought about buying for myself, but I absolutely love it. Thank you, Cupcake. This is awesome." His attention started to drift away again, and I was really pleased that he was so entranced with my gift.

Reassured, I pulled Sofi away from my earrings and smiled up at him. "You're welcome Joe. I just wanted to make you happy."

"You've already done that, Cupcake."

I started gathering up the detritus of our Christmas frenzy, and glanced again over the huge stack of gifts from family and friends. Sofi had more clothes and toys than she would ever possibly use. I had garnered some killer clothes and shoes from everybody, and some really beautiful diamond and filigree earrings from Joe. It's funny. Even now that I was a mother of almost two children, I couldn't escape that slight Christmas letdown. It was silly, I knew, since Joe and I had everything going for us, but a small part of me still held Stephanie the child who wanted Christmas magic. I smiled sadly, and decided to pack away that childish voice in the back of my head. I was a grown woman now, a mother even, with no time for such silly musing.

As we got ready to go to my parents' house for Christmas dinner, I restocked Sofi's diaper bag while Joe wrestled her into her warmest skisuit. It wasn't that cold, but Sofi's fast arms and legs made short work of blankets, so we had improvised with ski suits and footed pajamas in an attempt to ward off the cold when we took her outside. Joe snapped her into her carseat, and we started for the back door. As I opened the door handle on the passenger side, Joe gently but firmly shut the door. "I think we need to take two vehicles," he said.

"Okay," I said, "Except you're forgetting we only have the Explorer." I moved to open the door again, and Joe forestalled me by dangling a key on a shiny silver keychain right in front of my face.

"Oh, Joe!" I exclaimed. I knew Joe. He was such a good husband and father, and took such great care of his family. I looked over to the detached garage and Joe grinned down at me. My money was on a minivan to drive the babies around, and I hoped he'd picked a cool color. Joe opened the door with a flourish, and I caught my breath.

It wasn't a minivan.

It wasn't even close to a minivan.

It didn't even belong on the same planet as minivans. Smooth titanium and fire engine red, the Ducati S4R Testastretta screamed my name in a low siren's call.

"It's not a minivan," I choked out, as I lovingly ran my hand over the smooth, cold titanium.

Joe chuckled, and looked perplexed. "No."

I grinned up at him in delight. "I thought I had you so figured out. I figured you bought me a minivan." I shook my head in amazement. "I thought you were so practical."

"Kinda like crockpots and vacuum cleaners?" Joe teased.

"Yeah," I agreed sheepishly. "Kinda like that."

"You're not my mother, Cupcake."

"I still can't believe you did this. Oh, God, Joe. You bought a Duc! For me!" I couldn't hold back my glee any longer, and launched myself into his arms. He laughed deep and low, and held me tight in his arms. "Thank you, Joe. This is just magic."

"I just want you to be happy," Joe replied.

"I was already happy, Joe. This is just …" words failed me.

"So you gonna meet me and Sofi over at your parents or what?" I nodded, still grinning so wide I felt like my face was going to crack. Joe gave me a little wave as he backed the Explorer out of the driveway and turned toward the Burg.

In the meantime, I buckled my helmet, and turned the key. The Duc was a glorious crotch rocket, and thrummed with restrained energy between my scantily clad thighs. I could have gone back upstairs to change, but I couldn't wait to feel the pulse and power of the Duc under my legs. I balanced myself, and gave just a hint of throttle. The bike purred responsively under me, and I swung down the drive and out into the nearly deserted street. The wind whipped my hair into a frenzy, and my face was numb by the time I pulled into my parents' duplex, but I wouldn't have traded the ride for anything. My mother and grandmother were standing in unison at the front door as they had for so many years, waiting for the return of the prodigal Stephanie.

"A motorcycle?" my mother was aghast.

"Joe bought it for me. Isn't it wonderful?" I breezed past her without giving her a chance to reply. In my mother's world, wives and mothers did not ride motorcycles. Maybe that façade of Valerie she had tried to nail on me was beginning to crack around the edges for her. So be it. In my world, indulgent husbands bought motorcycles for their pregnant wives.

"I been thinking about getting me one of those," said Grandma Mazur.

"You should, Grandma. I bet you'd like it."

"I'd be hell on wheels, that's for sure." Like she wasn't already.

Joe sidled up behind me and whispered in my ear as I finished laying the flatware on the table, "So you gonna take me for a ride later?" My stomach dropped, and I began to feel a familiar tingle.

"Count on it," I whispered back.

My mother was still in a snit over the motorcycle, but knew she couldn't say anything. Instead, she vented her spleen on the poor hapless turkey. By the time she was finished carving, the meat had been virtually shredded. She was slightly out of breath, but seemed to have regained some of her equilibrium. Pinning a determined smile on her face, she chattered with intentional brightness throughout the meal, and if she was a bit brittle around the edges, I decided to cut her some slack. It was Christmas, after all, and Valerie's defection had caught her unawares. She might recognize on one level that Valerie was an adult and entitled to make her own choices, but letting go of the maternal responsibility was a whole different thing.

I gave upbeat my best shot, and Joe was charming as always, and Sofi certainly did her part to distract her. Sweet potatoes and gravy were smeared all over her face and into her hair, courtesy of Poppa and Daddy turning her loose with a spoon of her own while I wasn't looking. I tried swiping at her with a napkin the first few minutes, but it quickly became evident that Sofi was faster with her spoon than I was with the napkin. I finally just gave up and let her smear to her heart's content. Mom's kitchen sink had bathed more than a few babies in its time; one more wasn't going to make that much difference. I finally called a halt after Poppa slipped her a slice of pumpkin pie, and Daddy cut loose with the can of whipped cream. Before anyone could stop her, Sofi planted her face right in the middle of the pie and came up blinking whipped cream. Joe and my Dad cheered like she had made a touchdown in the final two minutes. She looked like a sticky, gooey ghost, her two little dark eyes like holes in her tiny face. Shooting a withering look at Joe and Dad, who were practically high-fiving each other over the pie, I searched in vain for a clean spot on Sofi's clothes. Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I clamped my hands over a mixture of red velvet, cold potatoes, and sticky whipped cream, and manhandled my protesting daughter into the kitchen. Sofi was not happy to be stolen away from her pie or her adoring male audience, but I made quick work of stripping her naked and plopping her into the sink. Sofi eyed me suspiciously, and with a calculating look in her eye, screamed at the top of her lungs.

"You little faker!" I was impressed.

Just as Sofi predicted, her Daddy came running into the kitchen, breaking every land speed record, a huge scowl on his darkly handsome face. Sofi's open mouth had assumed massive proportions, and she'd started hiccupping and sobbing, reaching out pitifully for Joe.

Not a tear in sight.

Shaking my head in defeat, I tossed the washcloth to Joe and said, "She's all yours," before waltzing out of the kitchen. My mother was hovering by the door.

"Is Sofi okay? She usually loves a bath…"

"Don't worry, Mom," I replied. "I think Sofi has everything she wants." Sure enough, I could hear splashes and giggles coming from behind the kitchen door. No residual snuffling, amazingly enough, after Sofi's Oscar-worthy performance. I couldn't make out words, but Joe's baritone carried softly soothing sounds over the top of the splashes. Wrapped around her little finger, that's what he was. I just rolled my eyes, and went to the linen closet for a bath towel to dry Sofi off.

When I went back to the kitchen a few minutes later, towel in hand, Sofi grinned winningly at me over her father's shoulder. Since she'd managed to manipulate the situation in her favor, she could afford to be magnanimous. I wrapped her up snugly in the towel, and peek-a-boo'ed it over her head, and she laughed. "You little stinker," I whispered into her damp curls, and she wiggled happily in response.

"You know, if you just let her do what she wants, she isn't any trouble at all," opined Grandma Mazur as I wrestled Sofi into a diaper and sleeper.

"Really?" I couldn't help a little sarcasm. At the moment, letting Sofi do what she wanted included letting her squirm bare-assed all over the carpet before teething on the glass Christmas ornaments. God knew what she'd want to do fifteen seconds from now, but it was guaranteed to be messy, destructive and downright adorable. Okay, so maybe Sofi had me wrapped around her finger too, but only after she was wearing a diaper. I sniffed at my own obvious moral superiority.

Now warm, dry and snuggled in a soft sleeper, Sofi knew what came next. She started rooting insistently at the front of my sweater. "Just a minute, Princess." Sofi's quick temper had taught me to be pretty fast at this, but I was hindered today by the tight sweater and decidedly unmatronly satin demi-bra that was not necessarily conducive to breast feeding, but was conducive to getting Joe's attention.

Moving with the speed and accuracy of a barracuda, Sofi homed in as soon as I managed to get my breast exposed, and latched herself on with voracious efficiency. She kneaded my breast like a kitten, and began tunelessly humming as she nursed, her eyes quickly closing to half mast. As always, I was caught up in the wonder of this perfect little girl. My fingers whorled gently through her brown mop of curls, then traced the delicate wings of her eyebrows. God, she looked so much like Joe. Unable to help myself, I pulled one of her tightly clenched fists to my mouth and kissed her tiny hand. I felt Joe's eyes on me then, and smiled up at him. His eyes were hot, his gaze possessive as it roamed over Sofi and me. A familiar warmth crept over me. Joe's elemental earthiness was such a turnon. He didn't compartmentalize me or our relationship. He paid no attention to political correctness and didn't bother with useless social mores. He was such an interesting mix of traditional Italian male and a man who marched to his own drummer. He could make a mean marinara in the kitchen and never lose a speck of his masculinity, but paid absolutely no attention to the theory that breast feeding wasn't about sex. If Joe thought something was sexy, nobody else's opinion mattered to him. I sighed. Lucky me.

Joe disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard him talking in a low voice to my mother. Arranging babysitting, I was sure. My hands shook in anticipation as I put myself back together, then carefully tucked my sleeping daughter into a warm fleecy blanket. I kissed her softly and whispered that we would be back soon. The allure of Joe and the motorcycle was overwhelming.

Joe met me by the front door, and swept me wordlessly down the walk and onto the back of the motorcycle. He settled in behind me as I started the machine, and I could feel the warmth of him through my light jacket. His hands worked at the waist of my sweater, and I turned questioningly. He made quick work of unhooking my bra and settled his warm hands firmly on each breast. "You wouldn't want me to fall off," he growled in my ear, his hands kneading and massaging under my sweater.

"You don't want me to run off the road, either," I replied, completely out of breath.

Joe chuckled wickedly, and the sound burned along my nerve endings. "That's why you have to keep both hands on the handlebars. No matter what I do, you have to hold on with both hands." His hot mouth left a trail of wet kisses up the side of my neck, and the cold winter air hit my neck like pinpricks. Not unpleasant, just very different. He bit my earlobe. I could feel his growing erection pressing into my hip. Oh, God. This was going to be the ride of my life.

"Circle the Burg first. I want to keep my hands under your shirt while we drive around the place we grew up," Joe's voice was a low growl, demanding and hot. Inventive and sexy, I drove slowly up and down the streets of our childhood, Joe's hot hands working and kneading my breasts down every street, up every avenue. I smiled dreamily to myself. Who would have thought Joe had a touch of the exhibitionist in him? This could be a lot of fun. Today he wanted to be in charge. Okay by me, but he better watch out the next time.

Joe's breath was hot and damp in my ear, and I turned the Duc out of the Burg and headed out of town. Exhibitionism is fine in small doses, but I didn't want to run the risk of spending any part of this very cold but sexually hot afternoon locked up for indecent exposure.

I pointed the Duc toward Washington Crossing, figuring the park should be closed for Christmas, but that we could probably find a private spot with the Duc. Some of the hiking paths were pretty secluded, and I headed for one I remembered as being particularly scenic. And isolated.

"Perfect," whispered Joe.

"Glad you approve," I answered, and moved to turn into his arms.

"Nope. Hands on the handlebars, Cupcake. Can you feel what you do to me?" Joe rubbed his erection along my ass, and I felt my breath catch.

"I feel it," I answered, out of breath.

"And the rumble of the Duc between your legs? Tell me how it feels," Joe demanded.

"Feels so good. You feel so good," I breathed. His hands and lips were everywhere, and that burning heat pressed into my hip.

"Remember you told me you had a sexual experience on Vinnie's Harley, and I told you I could improve on it?"

"Mmmmm," I couldn't make words. Joe's hands and his words were working magic on my body, and I could practically feel my nerves thrumming in the cold, crisp air.

"Today I'm going to show you," he ground out.

Joe slipped his hands out of my sweater, and I whimpered. Joe growled low in his throat and began working my skirt higher up my legs. I stood slightly to grant him better access, and the bike jumped.

"Shit. Put it in neutral and set the brake," he barked. Fumbling erratically, I managed to do as he asked as I felt a cold breeze play across the bare cheeks of my ass. The Duc rumbled erotically between my legs. Joe's rapid fingers snapped the strings of my thong in frustration. then he pocketed my underwear. His fingers traced along my dripping folds, and I moaned in frustration. Joe chuckled. "Give it a little more throttle, Baby." Mindless with emotion, I did what he asked. I heard the rasp of his zipper and bit back a cry of frustration. "Tell me what you want, Cupcake. Tell me."

"You," I choked out. "I want you. Inside me. Now," I ended on a groan.

Joe lift my hips slightly, and I sobbed when I felt him ram home. He felt so good. So hot, so full, so deep. I moaned again, and began to circle my hips.

"Arch your back, Cupcake. I want to give it all to you."

I arched into him, my hair cascading down my back in a riot of wind-whipped curls. Joe fisted his hands in my hair, and pulled me down as he thrust upward. Oh, God. I could feel him to my very core. One hand moved to grasp my hip, and the other moved around the front. Joe's fingers began roughly strumming and rubbing my nub as the Ducati vibrated beneath our joined bodies.

"So good, so good," I could hear him murmur as he rode me mercilessly. The heat was building up inside me until I couldn't contain it any more. I screamed his name as he threw his head back and emptied himself deep inside me.

Slowly, slowly I returned to my surroundings. I felt the heat of Joe's arms wrapped around me first, then the throb of the bike, and finally the cold bite of the winter wind as it circled us. My icy fingers were still clenched so tightly around the handlebars I didn't think I would ever be able to pry them off. Reflexively, I tried working my fingers and found that they were stiff, but functional. Now that we were well and truly spent, I turned myself around and faced Joe, straddling my naked legs over the tops of his thighs.

"Wow," I murmured, low and deep. Joe smiled back at me, then lowered his head and kissed me deep and long. I felt his partially depleted erection begin to stir against the inside of my thigh. I looked at him with new appreciation as he suckled my breasts and the erection continued to harden. "Wow," I said, this time in surprise. Joe chuckled.

"I am going to miss this," he said.

"Miss what?"

"I'm going to miss when you're not nursing babies any more," he elaborated as he suckled long and deep, then moaned low in his throat.

"Baby, we could go for years with the proper stimulation," I purred. God, his mouth felt so good.

"Great," he murmured, his mouth closing hard and fast on the other nipple. With a single movement, he pulled me forward and impaled me again on his straining erection. I arched my back, taking him deeper, and allowing him freer access to my swollen breasts. God, the tension was building again. Joe clamped his mouth over mine to swallow my screams and I raked my nails hard down the back of his leather jacket. Breathless and boneless, unable to focus thanks to multiple Morelligasms, I felt Joe putting our clothes back together, then slid to the back of the Duc. Joe climbed on in front of me and said, "Don't let go, Cupcake. You okay back there."

"Mmmmm," I replied, and rubbed my cheek along the smooth leather of his jacket. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and enjoyed the feeling of his warm weight pressed up against my sated breasts. I heard Joe's laughter rumble low in his chest, and smiled against his back.

I don't remember much of the trip back into Trenton, just the feel of cold wind and my body singing in response to every stimulation: the smooth feel of warm leather, the spicy scent of Joe's aftershave, the cold sting of the winter wind against my kiss-swollen mouth, the feel of the Ducati vibrating under me where Joe had so recently been. My bones had been dissolved in a sea of lust, and I couldn't seem to wrap my mind around the simple acts of walking or talking.

Joe pulled up in front of the row house, and I frowned. I knew we were forgetting something, but the tsing and zip reverberating through my body prevented me from accessing any higher brain functions. Joe picked me up off the back of the bike, and carried me up the walk. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and nuzzled in close. He always smelled so good. Even if he'd been working out or playing with Bob, he had an essential scent to him that I found incredibly erotic. I could have picked him out blindfolded in a room crowded with a thousand men, just by the smell that lingered behind his ear.

I watched the stairway disappear beneath me, only vaguely aware that Joe had carried me up. He tucked me into bed and pulled the covers high under my chin. "Get some rest, Cupcake. I'm going to go pick up Sofi."

Oh, yeah. Sofi. That was it. I smiled to myself. Only Joe could get me so far gone I couldn't remember Sofi. I closed my eyes, and drifted away, my body still awash with the feel of Joe and leftover sex.

Waking was a slow thing, languorous and deep. Murky gray winter's twilight was creeping through the windows, and I was nestled against Joe's warm length from my shoulders to the soles of my feet, laid flat on the tops of his hair covered shins. His arms wrapped around and over me, cradling Sofi on the other side of me. I blinked my eyelids open fractionally, and looked down at Sofi. She was sleeping softly in the crook of my body, her mouth slightly open around the nipple of my breast where she had obviously fallen asleep in the middle of nursing. Joe's large brown hand fit protectively over her diaper clad rump, keeping her from rolling away as we slept. Remembering our wild ride of the afternoon, I scooted closer to Joe's hips, smiling softly. I felt Joe's arms reflexively tighten around Sofi and I, just as I felt the familiar twitch of his groin against the cheeks of my backside. His breathing didn't change, so I knew he was still asleep; but even in slumber still aware of my proximity and Sofi's.

I had no clue what Joe had said to my parents when he picked up Sofi, probably something about pregnancy or hormones, and I mentally decided to play along. I had been replete and exhausted when Joe carried me up the stairs, and was still feeling warm and decidedly…peaceful. Yes, that was it. I was totally content and at peace, just lying here in the bed with Joe and Sofi and Whosit in the winter twilight. I realized that, perhaps for the very first time, I was happy with my life. No overwhelming need to chase the next rainbow, or wanting to be something other than who I was. I was finally comfortable in my own skin. I wasn't a typical Burg housewife, or a stereotypical anything for that matter, but it was okay. The life that Joe and I were building with our kids suited us all, and that was all that mattered.

"Merry Christmas, Cupcake," Joe rasped in my ear, still half asleep.

"Merry Christmas, Joe. Did I wake you?"

"You were thinking very loud."

I chuckled. "Sorry about that. At least they were good thoughts, right?"

"What were you thinking about?"

"Us."

"Us is good."

"Yup," I answered. "Us is very good." I kissed him lightly, then sat up and scooted Sofi over next to him.

"I am starving, though, and so is Whosit. Why don't I go scrounge up some leftovers and we'll have a picnic? Tell me my mother sent leftovers, Joe."

"Your mother sent leftovers. When does she not? And I don't want any marshmallows on my sweet potatoes!" he called after me as I headed down the stairs.

"I'll eat your marshmallows!" I hollered up the stairs as I stumbled naked into the kitchen. I quickly nuked a couple of plates, completely unconcerned about giving the neighbors a show. The morning after Grandma mentioned Joe's ding-a-ling, Joe hung blinds in all the downstairs windows. I chuckled at his wicked efficiency, then carted our leftovers up the stairs.

"Paulie would be completely disgusted," I said around a mouthful of melted marshmallows. Joe hadn't bothered with a fork, just scooped up the offending marshmallows with his finger and deposited the whole gooey mess in my mouth. Joe laughed, then made a face and held up two marshmallow coated fingers. I made short work of licking off the marshmallow goo, so that neither Joe's fingers nor his precious sweet potatoes would get contaminated.

"Paulie needs to learn to chill," replied Joe.

"So how's he doing?" I asked a little warily. We didn't talk about Paulie and Marie much. In our effort to keep their problems from spilling over onto us, we just kind of avoided the whole subject.

"Okay, I guess," was Joe's noncommittal reply. "Marie brought the kids for Christmas." I nodded. I had seen Marie briefly at the Morelli Christmas Eve, but she had disappeared soon after dropping off the kids. "He says she's being a real hard-ass."

"Really?" I tried to keep the sarcasm back, but Joe's look let me know I hadn't succeeded. So subtlety isn't my strong suit. "Do _you_ think she's being a hard-ass?" I asked. Careful with this one, Joe. Your sex life as we know it could depend on your answer.

"Hell, yes, she's being a hard-ass." I bristled. Way wrong answer. "In my opinion, he had it coming."

Oh. Okay, then. Joe passed me his glass of wine. "I can't," I said, and rubbed Whosit.

"One sip is not going to hurt Whosit, and it may help you get your hackles down." I stuck my tongue out at him in a remarkable display of maturity, but I took the wine.

"I thought you were going to take his side."

"I am taking his side." At my confused look Joe continued. "I want my brother to be happy, but he's not going to be happy chasing skirts the rest of his life and losing his wife and kids. He needs to straighten out and make things right with Marie. Hard-ass isn't a negative term, you know," he explained. "It's exactly what Paulie needs. He's got to figure out that Marie and those kids are more important to him than anything else. Until he does that, Marie's right in not cutting him any slack."

"You know she filed for divorce?" I asked. Joe nodded and kept eating. "So you think she didn't mean it?"

"I know damn well she means it, and so does Paulie," said Joe. "But I also know she loves my brother. Well, she loves the good parts of my brother, at least." I nodded in agreement, remembering Marie's own admission to me before she left. Joe shrugged. "I guess I just like to believe that true loves conquers all." Joe smiled lopsidedly at me, and my heart just melted. I leaned over and kissed him lightly.

"You bet it does." I was starting to tear up, damn the pregnancy hormones. I scrambled frantically for a neutral subject, since Joe hates it when I cry. "So Lula invited us for New Year's Eve." Joe instantly looked wary. Damn, it's hard to fool a cop.

"Invited us where?"

"The Hole,"

"Jesus, Stephanie…" Oh, good. He was pulling at the neck of his shirt, and was fighting a losing battle with his short supply of patience. I went in for the kill.

"Grandma bought a new purple bustier and everything."

Joe winced noticeably at what might constitute "everything" for my grandmother, and I smothered a grin.

Damn.

I wasn't fast enough. Joe caught the grin and cocked his eyebrow at me then gave me a supercilious look. Okay, it had been fun to yank his chain. He was so damn adorable when he got hot under the collar.

"What?" I tried to pretend innocence, but it didn't do much good. Instead, Joe tackled me and went for the ribs. Oh, God, I can take anything but being tickled in the ribs.

"Okay, okay!" I held up my hands in defeat a few breathless minutes later. "How about this instead?" I let my voice go sultry and dark. Soft. "How about…a bottle of something sparkly, and a fire in the fireplace," I licked his adam's apple. "Some soft music," Licked a little lower. "And a bearskin rug."

"I could go with the bare skin."

"I thought you probably could."


	19. Chapter 19

I had been working flat out since the day after Christmas, so it hadn't taken a lot of finagling to get out of work half a day early on New Year's Eve. Although Joe and I had spent New Year's together in the past, it was still kind of a first for us. Thinking back on all those anxious years of will we be together or won't we, I was suffused with a warmth that made me tingle, knowing that this year's celebration would be just for us. No more crazy party scenes where we had to pretend the midnight kiss didn't mean anything, when we both knew it meant far too much. No more masks and phony nonchalance, each of us trying to pretend the other one weren't the most important thing in the world. This new year's eve would be different. Romantic and erotic, with just the two of us and Sofi sleeping upstairs. I had big plans.

Those big plans took me to the sporting goods store, where I drew some strange looks, but nothing could compare to the look of hope on my mother's face when I asked her to watch Sofi an extra half hour so I could go to the fabric store. I'm sure she had vague thoughts of me sewing doilies or something. I rolled my eyes. As if.

Sofi and I blew through the door just after 3:00, and I knew I'd have to really get a move on to have everything ready to surprise Joe when he got off at 5:00. Please, please, let him get home on time. Please don't let there be something awful at the last minute. I wasn't so sure God was listening to my prayers since I was basically praying on behalf of my own depraved sex life, but I figured it couldn't hurt. After all, I rationalized, if Joe came home on time, it meant that the citizens of Trenton were safe for the night.

Well, it wasn't bad as far as rationalizations went.

I dumped Sofi's carseat unceremoniously in the middle of the living room floor, and went back out to get the last load of packages out of the back of the Explorer. I had talked Costanza into offering Joe a ride home from work so I could have the car. At some point, we were probably going to have to look into a second vehicle that seated more than two, and that only in close proximity, but my heart would never forget our Christmas christening of the Ducati, and I wasn't willing to give it up.

Still smiling at the memory, I stashed the champagne and ginger ale in the fridge to chill, then made quick work of unloading the rest of the goodies for tonight. Thank goodness for the deli counters and their premade party platters. I had a variety of Joe's favorite finger foods, plus some beautiful out of season strawberries that had cost the earth, but were worth it. I eyed the accompanying jar of Nutella thoughtfully. Best leave it sealed so I wasn't tempted. I'd wait to heat it until I heard Joe coming in the door.

I hunted high and low for a vase. I had never been a big one for receiving flowers in the first place, and my one and only favorite vase had been smashed enroute from Boston, so I was at a loss. I finally found a nice pitcher all the way in the back of the cabinet above the fridge. Probably a remnant from Aunt Rose, I couldn't see Joe choosing the creamy antique white with floral appliqués. With the big arrangement of tulips overflowing it didn't look bad, especially if I turned the ugly appliqué to the wall. Fitting action to thought, I hauled the flowers into the livingroom and arranged the pitcher on top of the mantle. With the ugly appliqué hidden and surrounded by an array of white candles, things were starting to look definitely festive.

Sofi was looking at me like I had lost my mind, and I kept up a running chatter with her while I got everything set. She didn't seem to be really impressed with all the effort I was going to, but seemed to really think I'd lost it when I started blowing up the inflatable mattress I'd bought at the sporting good store. I hadn't thought about a pump, so I was getting pretty red faced and winded before the thing was finally blown up, and Sofi was laughing at every wheezing breath I took. "Glad you're enjoying the show, Princess," I gasped.

I arranged the mattress in front of the empty fireplace, then strategically draped the yards of faux fur I had bought at the fabric store. I had found a beautifully plush deep brown that was soft and sleek. After a few minutes, I had just the right look of rumpled and exotic I was hoping for. A quick trip up the stairs for the down comforter and that part was set. I folded the comforter and left it on the back of the couch. I didn't want to destroy my handiwork with the makeshift bearskin rug by covering it up, but December nights can get drafty in New Jersey. I carefully laid a fire in the grate, then stood back to appraise the room.

I nodded. It would do. Grabbing the last shopping bag, I headed up the stairs with Sofi and the Victoria's Secret bag. I settled in on the bed with Sofi, and nursed her into a coma. That would give me at least an hour before Joe got home to primp myself in the bathroom. Carefully closing the door so we wouldn't disturb Sofi later if things got loud, I ran a bubble bath and soaked myself into a stupor. I managed the hair and makeup thing, then lotioned and perfumed myself from head to toe. I bit my lip as I surveyed the contents of the Victoria's Secret bag. I had been uncharacteristically indecisive at the store. Did I go for short and sexy, long and classy? Silky? See through? Fur? Velvet? I had finally opted for a classic black silk that hung from two tiny spaghetti straps to the tops of my feet in an unbroken waterfall of thin silk. Cut on the bias, it hugged and clung, but managed to swirl around my legs like hot smoke. Paired with a translucent black silk robe that shimmered and moved with every breath of air, I thought I wasn't looking too shabby.

I checked on Sofi one last time, then spared a quick glance at the bedroom clock. Ten past five. Joe would be home any minute. I managed the stairs as fast as my FMPs would take them, and began lighting matches. Once the fire started and all the candles were burning, I made a quick circle around the room and turned off the lamps. I debated between the couch and the bearskin "rug", then decided I might as well not play coy. If I wanted to give Joe a night full of fantasies, I might as well start off like I meant to go on. Grabbing a couple of throw pillows from the couch, I did my best to artfully arrange myself on the mattress so the firelight showed through the thin silk I wore.

A few minutes before five-thirty, I heard a car in the drive. Too late, I realized he could invite Costanza inside. I eyed the distance to the down comforter, just in case I needed to make a dive for it. I heard Joe's key in the lock, and all my muscles tensed in anticipation. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief when Joe closed the door and locked it righ behind him. Joe heard my sigh, and turned toward the fireplace.

"Wow," he breathed. I could see the fire start behind his eyes, and his slow smile started working its way up his face.

"You like?" I asked, knowing full well that I looked fabulous.

"Absolutely." He moved on panther's feet, and the sexual energy was practically crackling in the air around him.

"Happy New Year," I told him, and swallowed nervously. His stance was predatory, his eyes were hot, and as even when faced with the primal part of Morelli, I was just a little skittish.

"Are you my present?" Oh yeah. Definitely into the full wolf mode now.

"Do you want me to be?" I licked my lips, and pushed my chest a little farther forward.

"Do I get to unwrap you?" he teased, still circling me like I was a particularly juicy bit of prey to his predator.

"You get to do whatever you want," I answered, looking him full in the eyes, and refusing to look away or be embarrassed.

"Oh, hell yes," he growled, then lowered himself beside me.

Sometimes our lovemaking was frantic, sometimes gentle, slow and deliberate. We spent the night in a haze of every fantasy we'd ever wanted, then fell into an exhausted sleep in front of the glowing embers soon after midnight.

I woke the next morning still wrapped in the down comforter, with the feel of the "bearskin" under my cheek. I smelled coffee and heard Joe moving around in the kitchen, and smiled lazily to myself. The morning sun told me we'd slept late, and I wondered if Sofi had managed to sleep late, or if she'd awakened Joe at the crack of dawn.

I managed to shuffle to the kitchen without moaning. I was more than a little sore this morning, but last night's activities had been worth any minor aches and pains. I snuggled up to Joe's back as he stood at the stove. "Good morning, Love," I said.

"Mmmmmm. Good morning yourself, Cupcake." His morning kiss sent me reeling, but we were both still pretty wired from the night before.

When I could get my eyes to focus, I realized Sofi wasn't in the kitchen. "Sofi still sleeping?" I asked.

"Hmm? Yeah, I guess so. I've only been up a few minutes." Joe answered distractedly as he started breaking eggs.

I poured two cups of coffee, then set one on the counter next to him where he could reach it easily while he made breakfast. "I'll go up and check on her," I said, and kissed him one more time for good measure.

I practically skipped up the stairs. Last night had been perfect, and I think I managed to actually surprise Joe. Much better to spend new year's with Joe and a bearskin rug than at a smelly crowded bar. I sighed happily, and opened Sofi's door.

An icy blast of air nipped at my ankles, and I felt the coffee cup slip from my nerveless fingers. Sofi's crib was obscenely empty, the gaping window above let in the mocking winter wind. A crust of ice had formed on the sheet of her mattress, not even a hint of warmth left where she had slept so peacefully the night before. From a great distance, I heard someone screaming as if tortured beyond human endurance.

I realized it was me.


	20. Chapter 20

My knees buckled as my legs refused to support me, and I dropped to the floor. Unwilling to give up forward momentum in my search for my baby, I slipped and slid frantically over my spilled coffee. I ran my hands over Sofi's crib sheets again and again, as if she had somehow turned invisible, and if I could only manage to touch her I could pull her back into the land of the visible. My fingers slithered through her blankets, desperately searching for some small part of my baby. As if from a distance, I heard my own voice in a monotone, "Please, God. Please God. Please not Sofi. Please God." Over and over, these were the only words I could force past my numb lips.

An eon passed before I heard Joe's tread on the stairs. In my head, I knew only moments could have passed. Joe's well-honed reflexes would have had him running for the stairs before my coffee finished hitting the hardwood floor. But my heart told me that hours drug sluggishly by in the ticking of each second that my daughter was missing. The dust motes laughed at me as they refused to pass through the sunlight, standing still in time and mocking my devastation. My hands slipped from the bedclothes and settled in a deathgrip on the bars of Sofi's crib. "Not Sofi. Not Sofi. Not Sofi." I couldn't even plead with God any more by name. I could hear my own voice becoming hysterical.

As if it were happening to someone else, I felt Joe's hands close around my wrists to try to pry me from Sofi's crib, and I turned and fought him like a wildcat. He was determined to get me out of the nursery in order to preserve the crime scene, I realized later, but at that moment, the only thing I could register was that he was trying to take me out of my baby's room without her. I kicked, I bit and scratched, I did whatever I could think of to keep him from taking me out of that room. If I left that room without Sofi, I was convinced I would never get her back. Everything in my mind and my body was focused on staying where she had last been, where the scent of baby powder and milk still hung obscenely in the air. Joe's hands stayed like steel bands, and drug me kicking and screaming from the room, and he was seemingly impervious to the blows I rained down on him.

He kept my wrists pinned behind my back, and held me close to him in a death grip. With his other hands, I saw him manipulating his cell phone and I heard an unintelligible garble of noise as he spoke into the mouthpiece. In the meantime, I hadn't abandoned my struggle to get back to Sofi's room and continue my futile search. Joe finally stopped talking on his phone and wrapped both arms around me. He continued to talk, low incomprehensible words that I couldn't hear over my own screaming. Eventually, the initial adrenaline rush passed, and I nearly collapsed. Sofi was really gone. Someone had kidnapped our daughter. Finally, Joe's words penetrated my deep detachment. "We'll find her. I promise you we'll find her. We'll find the baby, Stephanie." I nodded slowly and drew in a shuddering breath. Suddenly, all the strength drained out of me, and I stumbled against Joe and began to cry, deep wrenching sobs that I felt would never stop. Again, his voice called me back to reality. "I need you to listen to me, Cupcake. Okay? Listen to me." I nodded again. "I know this is hard, but I need you to hold it together, okay? We'll find Sofi, I promise you that. We'll find her. But I don't want to have the EMTs give you a trank, okay? It's not good for the baby. The cops are on their way, and we'll find Sofi. But you're the only one who can take care of our little boy. Okay, Steph? Can you do that?" I nodded again, dumbly, almost in a trance. Part of me recognized what he was saying, but the rest of me was still detached from reality. That part of me hoped I would wake up soon, only to find my baby sleeping safely down the hall and laugh at my own overactive imagination.

The cops arrived in force as Joe half-carried me down the stairs, and I began to realize that my hopes of a nightmare were probably not going to happen. The downstairs was soon crawling with cops and technicians, and someone had called the first responders from the fire department. I shook them off as they meticulously checked my blood pressure and heart rate, and went to join Joe in the kitchen where he had started giving his statement.

I slid next to Joe at the dining room table, needing his presence more than the air I was sucking raggedly into my lungs. I looked across the table, and my stomach dropped. What the hell was Brian Gaspick doing in our dining room? There was no way in hell I was going to trust Sofi's safe return to Officer Picky. Picky was droning on at Joe. "As you know, Detective," and he turned the title into a sneer as only a washed-up also-ran could do it, "the family is always questioned first in these kinds of incidents. Please just answer my questions. Tell me again how you got those scratches on your face, Detective." I looked over at Joe and noticed for the first time the long line of marks running down the side of his face, still oozing blood at the deepest points. His neck and shoulders bore similar marks, and I gently ran my fingers over the weals and welts.

"Oh, God, Joe. Your poor sweet face. I'm so sorry." I couldn't believe what I had done to him in my frenzied attack upstairs.

Joe just looked at me, and took my hand. "It doesn't matter, Baby. Don't worry about it."

I turned to face Gaspick. "The scratches are from me. Joe was trying to get me out of the baby's room to preserve the crime scene, but I was hysterical. I kept trying to get back in the room."

Gaspick didn't give anything away, but I knew he was far from impartial. His rivalry with Joe went back a long way. I knew Gaspick was a by the book cop; I only hoped he was by the book enough to not try to use Sofi's disappearance as a way to gain retribution for supposed slights.

"What time did you last see your daughter?" He was cold as ice, give him that. No accusation, no sympathy, he might as well have been an automaton.

I glanced at Joe. "About 10:30, I think. It was before midnight. Joe brought her downstairs and changed her diaper, then I nursed her one final time before we tucked her into bed for the night."

"What time did you go to bed?"

I shook my head. "I'm guessing about 1:00 or so. We saw the new year in, and slept downstairs in front of the fireplace last night."

Gaspick's eyes darted to the doorway, where the edge of our impromptu love nest was still visible. He didn't say anything, but I suddenly felt dirty and exposed that this worm of a man could come into our home and see our most private things. I felt violated, both because my home had been invaded and our daughter taken from us, and then again as the police and technicians poked through our sanctuary. I felt a slow burn of anger begin low in my gut for whoever had done this thing. Getting Sofi home safe was my top priority, but after that… After that, God help the person who had invaded our lives and our home, and who had stolen our peace of mind and security along with our child. I would not rest until retribution was mine, and I knew Joe well enough to realize he would be right beside me.

I realized Gaspick had been speaking, and I had been paying no attention. "Allright," he concluded, and heaved himself up out of the kitchen chair. "The technicians are processing the scene upstairs, and I've got a call in for search dogs to come and see what they can track. I'll call in an Amber alert. That's about all we can do at this point."

I stared as Gaspick in disbelief. I realized Joe had risen to his feet, his body emanating tension and barely controlled fury. His fists and teeth clenched, and a slow tide of red rose slowly up his neck. "All you can do? What the hell do you mean that's all you can do? My daughter has been kidnapped! She's a baby, for God's sake!"

Gaspick broke in, obviously enjoying Joe's agony. "There's nothing at this time that points to kidnapping, Detective," he said smugly.

I caught Joe's hand just as it shot across the table to throttle Brian Gaspick. "You think Peter Pan came and spirited her away, then?" I asked heatedly. "What the hell else do you call it when an infant disappears from a second story bedroom window?"

"We only have your word about the window, Mrs. Morelli." He made my married name sound like an epithet, and I truly hated him at that moment. Before Joe or I could say anything further, there was a commotion at the front door, and Remy stormed in.

He entered the kitchen like a whirlwind and gave Gaspick a quick once-over. Obviously disappointed in what he saw and what he might have overheard, Remy flashed his badge and drawled. "Thank you for your _assistance_, Officer Gaspick. The FBI will take it from here."

"_Detective_ Gaspick," Gaspick snarled, only too aware that his shiny detective's shield was practically new from the factory. "And I'm primary on this case," he started up again.

"No longer," Remy's voice cut through like a knife.

"I'll have to take this up with the Chief of Police. Inter-agency rivalry and one-upsmanship have no place in an investigation of this kind." Gaspick sounded so pious, it made me want to take a hammer to him.

"I couldn't agree more," drawled Remy. "Please give my best to Joe Juniak, would you please? We go way back." Remy stared him down, and Gaspick folded first. He stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.

Remy walked over to the table and slid into the spot Gaspick had recently vacated. He looked at us straight and said, "Tell me everything. We need to go find my goddaughter."

I was trembling with relief. Thank God Remy showed up when he did. Unlike Brian Gaspick, I instinctively knew that Remy would move heaven and earth to find our Sofi. Joe would have done the same for Remy, Tyrone or Tex, if it came to that. I sat back and let the "coptalk" wash over me. Just like the inscrutable cop face, Joe and Remy both used the concise neutral patois of law enforcement officers to mask any show of emotion. It was a coping mechanism, I recognized, and one I was grateful for at the moment, since it allowed the maximum exchange of information in the least amount of time. I was painfully aware of the passage of each moment, full well knowing that every minute Sofi was gone could mean she was another mile away, an ever expanding number of miles to search. I tamped down my panic, and struggled to focus on what Remy and Joe were saying.

"I've got choppers on standby, Joe, but we've got to know where to send 'em," Remy said in frustration. "And as soon as the techs get any usable prints, I've got it set up for a friend to run them through a faster prototype program. It's not official, of course, but I pulled some strings on the way over."

"Thanks, Remy." I could hear the tiniest catch in Joe's voice and see a bare glitter of tears standing in his eyes, but he was holding onto his composure like a lifeline. I squeezed his knee under the table, afraid of shattering that legendary control by doing more. His hand covered mine absently. "What's taking them so damn long?"

I shook my head at Joe. "Palmer's processing the room, Joe. He's the best field tech Trenton has. It probably seems slow, but he'll find whatever is there to find." Joe nodded his head. I wasn't telling him anything his cop's brain didn't already know, but his father's heart was breaking with each moment Sofi was gone.

I'd had the emotionally overwhelming duty of calling our relatives this morning while Joe was talking to all the cops. I had wracked my brain to come up with a list of people who had been inside Sofi's room. The list was mercifully shorter than it could have been. Since we had so recently painted her nursery and replaced the carpet, it was unlikely that any fingerprints or fibers predated the remodel. I remembered shining the window over Sofi's crib myself before hanging the curtains my mother had made for her. My parents and Joe's mom, along with MaryLou, Tony and Paulie were already on their way over to be fingerprinted and provide hair and saliva samples. Yet another grudge against this monster who had stolen our daughter and invaded our lives. Our friends and relatives were being forced to check their privacy at the door of the police station. It didn't make it any more palatable that every one of them was more than happy to do whatever they could for Sofi, or even that Big Dog had agreed to meet them all at the door of the police station and walk them through the process himself, with as little indignity as possible.

Dave Palmer stuck his head around the doorframe and patted his field kit. "I'm on my way back to the station. Got some good clear prints and some hair samples. I'll start processing them as soon as I get there." He looked directly at me for the first time, and his long face drooped with sympathy. "Don't worry, Steph. I called Sheryl from my cell when the call went out, and she called all the techs at home. They'll all be waiting at the lab for me to get there." Directing his gaze to Remy he continued. "As soon as we rule out everybody who had a reason to be up there, we'll get you anything else to run through your computer program. Since the list of legitimates is so small, it'll be faster to have the techs rule them out by hand." He cleared his throat. "Makes us feel like we're doing something productive anyway."

"Thanks, Dave," I choked. Tears were overcoming me in waves, and I was comforted that so many of our friends and family were doing whatever they could to help bring Sofi home. Joe nodded his thanks, and Dave ducked his head in response before slipping back into the hallway and out the front door.

I could hear the barking of the canine units arriving as Dave headed outside, and thought about Bob for the first time. He had been unusually quiet, sitting sentinel under the kitchen table under our feet almost as if he sensed something was wrong. I persuaded him out from under the table. I knew he wouldn't be happy closed up in the cellar, but it was too cold to have him outside, and I didn't want the search dogs distracted by a strange dog. Also, Bob has a penchant for causing calamity, so I figured it was better to have him out of the way. Bob whined but didn't put up too much fuss as I closed the cellar door.

Joe went and met the search dog handlers at the front door and a low exchange followed. Joe nodded, then headed back toward the cellar himself. I raised my eyebrows questioningly. Joe just shook his head, and disappeared down the stairs. He returned in a few minutes holding a basketful of Sofi's laundry that hadn't been washed. Stoically, Joe passed out pieces of Sofi's clothing to the solemn faced search teams. The men nodded respectfully to Joe as they turned to leave, and his cop's mask was firmly in place as he quietly returned the jumbled pile of Sofi's laundry to the cellar.

As the cellar door closed after Joe, the grandmothers blew in the front door, four strong, all with formidable scowls on their faces and bearing overflowing grocery bags. Grandma Bella officiously handed off her grocery bag to the nearest uniform, and made her way over to me. She looked me over closely, then reached over and grasped my hand, her old gnarled fingers surprisingly strong yet gentle on my flesh. "Our Sofi is safe," she announced solemnly. "I cannot see where she is, but she has not been harmed." The other grandmothers nodded in unison behind her, and I found myself following suit. Grandma Bella's visions may be nothing but pure bunk, but at this moment, we all needed something to believe in. If Grandma Bella said Sofi was fine, that was a talisman of hope, and I would cling to it.

"If Bella sees it, it's so," pronounced Grandma Mazur. I grinned a little in spite of the gravity of the situation. Both old ladies seemed to have forgotten their knock-down, drag-out fight at Stiva's funeral home just last year and were determined to let bygones be bygones, united in their concern for their great-granddaughter.

"Of course she's fine," blustered my mother, unwilling to entertain any other, darker thought. "When we get our hands on whoever did this…" she broke off, unable to come up with a dire enough threat. The grandmothers all exchanged glances, and I shivered in spite of the central heating. God help the perpetrator if Sofi's grandmothers got hold of them. Nothing the justice system could come up with could equal the wrath of four Italian and Hungarian grandmothers. Of course, that was always assuming the kidnapper managed to survive Hurricane Joe. He was obviously maintaining a tight hold on his emotions, but his control was hanging by a thread. I knew it was only a matter of time until my Italian time bomb detonated. He had disciplined himself to stay stone cold in a crisis, but once Sofi was home, someone would pay. A cold satisfaction gripped my heart. Very much would they pay. Joe's vengeance would be terrible to behold, but a part of me looked forward to meting out retribution. A slow, steady anger began to build low in my gut, and I fanned the flames of rage, carefully feeding that fire to sustain me through this ordeal. I would call on anything I had to, be it rage or pain, anger or love, to get me through this and find Sofi on the other side. If negative emotions kept me going for the moment, so be it.

Mrs. Morelli patted my arm consolingly. "How about I go make some nice manicotti for lunch?" she asked.

I shook my head and mumbled something about not being able to eat. Truly, the thought of food nauseated me, and I felt my throat constrict at the very thought of chewing and swallowing. "Well, maybe by the time it's done," she said. "After all, everybody has to eat. We have to keep their strength up so they can find my granddaughter." She gestured at the rooms full of agents, technicians, friends and strangers. My eyes widened at the amount of food she could be talking about, but I didn't protest. If the grandmothers wanted to cook for the entire Burg, who was I to stop them. We would each do whatever we could to find Sofi, and for the grandmothers that meant stoking uniformed hulks with food so they could search farther, longer, faster.

I left the grandmothers firmly ensconced in the kitchen, the soothing overlay of "cook talk" reminding me of "cop talk". As they measured and debated, clanged pots and shuffled ingredients, the grandmothers moved in their own intricate choreography, much as the uniforms had moved earlier in the day. I went in search of Joe, but he wasn't in the livingroom. I went up the stairs, and looked into our bedroom and the guest room, to find both of them empty. At some point, Joe had been up here because the deflated air mattress from last night was crumpled against the back wall of the guest room, and the beautiful fur was forgotten in a forlorn heap in the corner. I was grateful he'd thought to bring them upstairs, away from the prying eyes of strangers. I steeled myself to open Sofi's door, thinking he may have sought her nursery as a place of quiet and solace, away from the constant stream of humanity in the downstairs.

Empty.

I had hoped against hope that Sofi might have magically appeared when I opened the door, but her crib was still mockingly abandoned. My heart squeezed in my chest, but I resolutely shut the door behind me.

I headed down the stairs once more, and gave a perfunctory look outside. The dog handlers were still milling around in the front, and the back yard was eerily deserted. I finally opened the cellar door, and started down the stairs.

I found Joe at the bottom of the stairs, a small pink sleeper of Sofi's clutched in his hands. He was staring into nothing, his face blank. Bob's fuzzy head was resting on his thigh, but Joe was a million miles away and completely unaware of the dog's attempt to comfort him. "Joe?" I called.

He turned his head and looked up at me, and I caught my breath at the devastation in his face. His eyes looked bleak and dead, with no expression. "I'm here," he said unnecessarily. I continued down the stairs and sat next to him on the step.

I laid my head over on his shoulder, but he didn't move. He looked catatonically into the middle-distance, as if there were something beyond the peeling paint of the cellar wall that only he could see. "We'll find her, Joe," I said consolingly.

"Yeah." His face was still a set mask, but I could see anger beginning to flicker behind his hard eyes. "They'll find her. That's what they're trained to do," he said absently.

"That's their _job_, right? That's what cops do. They find people. They keep them safe." His voice had taken on a flinty edge that scared me. He was spitting out his words, his rage barely contained. He turned to me with a sickly smile on his face. "All except me. I can't even manage to keep my fucking family safe." He exploded into the air and began pacing the tight confines of the cellar laundry room. "One little girl, and I can't do it." He gave a bitter laugh. "I'm up there…." His voice broke, but he continued on, too overcome with misplaced anger to stop. "I'm up there and they're asking me who might have reason to want to harm Sofi, in order to get even with me, and I just start thinking it would be easier to give them a list of who wouldn't." He shook his head, then gave a sudden turn. I flinched as his fist connected with the cellar wall and a crack appeared. He managed two more solid punches before I could get to him and pull his arm back. I hung on with both hands, and refused to cower under the burning glare he shot me.

"Stop, Joe. Stop it right now." I fairly hissed at him. "Don't you do this. Don't you give up! Don't take the blame for what this sick bastard did." I could see he was still far away, determined to absorb all the guilt, all the responsibility.

"Fine," I said, with a lot more bravado in my voice than I was actually feeling. "If it's your fault for being a bad cop, then it's my fault for being a bad mother." That snapped his head around, and I continued. "If I hadn't been so damn stupid, and so determined to fuck your brains out last night, I would have been upstairs. Maybe I would have heard something. Maybe I would have been able to stop whoever it was. If I'd been a better mother, with my mind on my baby instead of on having sex with you, maybe this wouldn't have happened." Joe was shaking his head now, and his hands came up and gripped my shoulders.

"No, no, no! Don't you even think that," he practically shouted.

"I won't if you won't," I countered, without missing a beat. I placed my palms carefully on each side of his beloved face, forcing him to meet my gaze. "We'll both go crazy if we start in with the if onlys, Joe. We didn't do anything wrong. Put the blame where it belongs—on the asshole who stole our daughter. Don't do this to yourself, please. You're all I have." My voice broke at the end, as I was overcome with emotion, and that seemed to unlock the floodgates for Joe as well. His breathing became ragged, and tears welled in his eyes, but he was determined not to let them fall, worrying that if he started to cry he might not be able to stop. I wrapped my arms around his neck and just held him close, offering the only comfort I could. He pulled me to him and buried his face in my hair, and we stood there for long moments, each drawing strength from the other. I finally felt him nod against the side of my neck.

"Okay?" I asked.

"Okay," he replied, then nodded resolutely. "Let's go find our girl."

I nodded myself, and took him by the hand, slowly leading him up the stairs and back into the light.

As we mounted the cellar stairs, I realized I wouldn't be able to ignore the tightness in my breasts any longer. It had been more than twelve hours since I last nursed Sofi, and my body was starting to rebel. I had ignored my aching breasts in an effort to put off thinking about Sofi's captor. Who would feed her when I wasn't there? Did they know she only liked her bottles cold? It was just one of many of Sofi's quirks. Milk straight from Mom could be warm, but put it in a bottle and she wanted it icy cold from the refrigerator. And her diapers. Did this monster have any idea how many brands of diapers we had tried before finding the one kind that didn't give her a rash? And she couldn't use lanolin. If her creams and lotions had lanolin in them, she broke out in an itchy mess. God, so many things to go wrong. Deliberately, I focused on the bottles, and the diapers, and the baby cream. I steadfastly refused to ponder, even for a moment, that Sofi might be in greater danger than rashes and bottles that didn't suit her. I purposely tamped down the growing wave of panic, and concentrated on what needed to be done.

I quietly let myself into the upstairs bathroom, and turned the spigots on the shower. Like an automaton, I folded my clothes and stacked them on the sink vanity before stepping under the shower's spray. I gasped at the needles of water hit my breasts, but the warm water quickly did its work and my milk began to flow. I watched in morbid fascination as the milk made white rivers over my pale flesh, the sound of the water drowning out the dry sobs that began without my even realizing I was crying. I felt my body slide down the slick tiles until I was sitting in the bottom of the bathtub, with the water pounding on top of me and my mouth wide in an open scream. The sobs were hoarser now, an animal sound drawn from the depths of my soul. I watched my baby's link to life swirl down the drain away from me, my hands catching ineffectively at the white clouds of milk. My shoulders shook and my body heaved in denial, refusing to accept that my daughter was gone.

I felt Joe's hands settle on my shoulders, then the rasp of a washcloth running over my skin. Red-eyed from weeping, I turned my head to meet Joe's gaze. He said nothing, just continued cleaning me up, his eyes sad and tired. When he was through, he turned off the water and held up a towel for me to step into. "Your shirt's all wet," I said inconsequentially.

"It doesn't matter," Joe replied, and began drying my shriveled skin.

I couldn't quite meet his eyes. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.

Joe shook his head. "Don't be sorry for worrying about our daughter."

"I didn't mean to lose it like that," I explained.

"I didn't mean to lose it in the basement, either, Cupcake. It doesn't matter. We'll get through this. We'll bring our girl home." Joe held my clothes for me as I stepped into them, then gave me a swift, hard hug. "We're going to be okay. You'll see." I believed him because I wanted to so badly.

We came downstairs to find Tank and Lula in the livingroom, along with Ranger and Connie. Connie was curled up on the floor next to Remy. Part of me had wondered how he'd arrived so quickly this morning. Pretty easy to explain if he'd brought the new year in with Connie. Since Remy's cop mask was firmly in place, I studied Connie instead. Her face was drawn and worried, like everyone else, but there was an underlying glow there. And good for them, I decided, especially since it put Remy practically on our doorstep this morning when we needed him most.

"What do you need from me?" Ranger's question cut right to the chase, and had been directed at Joe.

Joe inclined his head toward Remy. "Remy's been able to call in a lot of markers with the FBI. We'll need you if those aren't enough." Remy was intently studying the wall, intentionally distancing himself from the conversation while paying close attention to every word. We all knew what Joe hadn't said. Remy had to operate within the confines of the law. Since he wasn't a sworn officer, Ranger could be more creative if necessary. By unspoken agreement, we all knew that whatever would bring Sofi back home was a case of the ends justifying the means.

"Understood."

"I owe you," said Joe.

Ranger shook his head. "You paid in advance." A long look passed between the two of them, and I realized they meant more than just Julie. Finally, Joe nodded once in acceptance, and the tension in the room eased as Mrs. Morelli poked her head in from the kitchen to announce that lunch was ready. Once again, my stomach lurched in rebellion, and I sat quietly while the others trooped off to the kitchen for plates. Joe's sisters and sister in law, Beth, spoke to me as they carried plates out the front door for the policemen who had been out knocking door to door searching for Sofi all morning. I nodded and tried to smile, but all I could think about was how much Sofi would have enjoyed her Daddy sneaking her some of Grandma Morelli's manicotti swimming in her favorite marinara sauce.

Tony and Paulie came in the front door, faces red with cold with Tony blowing on his exposed fingers. They had been out with the cops all morning, methodically searching for Sofi. "Your mom made some lunch," I offered, each word an effort. "Yeah," said Tony. "Cathy sent us in. Can I bring you anything?" I mutely shook my head and Joe's brothers disappeared into the kitchen.

I was still staring blindly out the window when I felt the couch move next to me. Paulie sat there with a plate of manicotti, looking determinedly at me. "Okay, here's the deal, Sis." I smiled in spite of myself. Nobody had ever called me 'sis', and Paulie used such an exaggerated Mafioso accent it was like hearing an old Jimmy Cagney movie. "I know you don't want to eat. But I also know you've got another Morelli bambino in the oven that needs food. So," he broke theatrically. "I am here to make the supreme sacrifice of offering you a piece of my manicotti. Just one, mind you, and then I'll stop bugging you about it. But off of my own plate, and I'm even offering to share my fork." He really looked pained. "I wouldn't do this for just anybody, as you well know, but for you?" He shrugged and held out a piece of manicotti. I still didn't want to eat, but Marie was right. Paulie had more than his share of Morelli charm.

"One bite?" I asked.

"That's all I ask," he replied.

I quickly swallowed the cheese filled pasta before I could taste it, then held up my hand to stave off an offer of any more. "Can I ask a favor?" I asked, before he could try to shove more food in my mouth.

"Anything." It could have been over the top, but I had a feeling Paulie really meant it.

"Go see if you can get Joe to eat something, would you please?"

"Already taken care of," Paulie said blithely. "My job was to come in here and charm you into eating something. Tony's just gonna hold Joe down and cram it down his throat if he doesn't cooperate."

I laughed in spite of myself, even though tears were still close to the surface. Probably that's what Paulie intended. "Thanks, " I said.

"Any time." He excused himself and went back to the kitchen, probably to report success on Operation Stephanie.

I could hear the low rumble of Tank's voice coming from the kitchen, along with the almost syncopated sound of Lula. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, though, and I knew without turning that Ranger had come into the living room.

"Babe."

Sure enough. I nodded my head in acknowledgement.

"Keep your focus. Tune out the emotion and concentrate on the goal," he said.

I thought about it for a minute. Then gave it another minute for good measure.

"Bullshit." I didn't even know I was going to say it out loud until it was already hanging in the air.

"Look," he began, "Nobody knows what you're going through more than I do, but…"

I interrupted him. "No, Ranger. That's where you're wrong." I turned myself around to face him. I wasn't angry or loud, but I wasn't going to let this one pass.

"The point is you don't know what I'm going through, and you don't know what Joe's going through. And the sad part is, it's your loss." I went back to looking out the window, in a futile wish that I would see someone walking up the steps with Sofi cuddled in their arms. I continued bleakly. "And it's Julie's loss. You can't emotionally detach yourself from your child, as you called it, and still be a parent. It just doesn't work that way."

I turned back to face him. "You don't love someone 'in your own way,' with caveats and disclaimers and distance. That's not love, that's control. You have to be willing to risk that control to love someone. You have to put yourself out there and not hold anything back. You can insulate yourself from pain, like you do, but you lose the joy along with it. You have to risk one to get the other. Yeah, I feel like my guts are being drug over broken glass right now, and so does Joe. But it's worth it. Neither one of us would trade one single moment of loving Sofi with our whole hearts in order to avoid hurting right now."

"Those walls you build, to keep yourself safe? They keep other people out, Ranger. You won't know what it's like to truly love someone else until you take those walls down, whether it's a woman, or your daughter. You have to let them in, or you're just going through the motions of living. You've got all the trappings of a life, but there's no life inside of it, Ranger."

He was staring at me blankly, and I had no idea if anything I had said penetrated his slick, glossy veneer. He was one of the bravest men I knew when it came to physical danger. But his unwillingness to relinquish control kept tripping him up from establishing healthy relationships. He finally nodded slowly, called me "Babe" one more time and quietly left the living room. I sighed unhappily. I had probably hurt my friend, which hadn't been my intention.

Just then, I noticed Paulie leaning against the hallway door frame. "You were pretty hard on him," he commented.

I nodded. "You were pretty hard on me too," he continued. I nodded again, this time a little warily.

"Thank you," he said. He sat next to me on the couch, draped an arm around my shoulder, then pulled me close and planted a quick kiss on the top of my head. "It was what I needed to hear, even if I didn't like it at the time. I just talked to Marie on the phone. She said to tell you she's on her way, but the weather has really made a mess of the roads so she doesn't know when she'll get here."

"I'm glad she's coming," I said.

"Me, too," said Paulie. "I'd had a lot of time to think while she was gone, and I had realized that you were right. If I wanted Marie, I had to stop treating her like she mattered less than a bunch of faceless women who didn't matter at all. I love my wife, Stephanie, I just wasn't a very good husband to her. And I miss my kids."

He broke off, and I could see tears standing in his eyes. "When I got the call this morning, about Sofi being missing, it was like a baseball bat in the gut. You and Joe hadn't done anything to deserve this, but if I lost my kids, I'd have nobody to blame but myself. My kids weren't stolen by a stranger, but they were just as gone, and it was my fault. I have to make that right with them, and with Marie." He swiped quickly at his eyes. "Thanks for kicking me in the ass when I needed it." He grinned lopsidedly at me, and I covered his hand with my own.

"Any time."

The daylight slowly darkened outside the front window, and my terror grew with each lengthening shadow. I had not allowed myself to face the possibility of nighfall without Sofi. The fingerprints the technicians had lifted earlier today had netted only one set of unknowns. Unfortunately, even with every available resource working at top speed, the technicians had yet to find a match. Likewise, the hair samples would have to undergo DNA testing, then hope for a match within the existing database. All of which took time, and time was something Sofi didn't have. I wanted her home, dammit, before night fell. It was coming up dinner time, and Sofi should be winding down for the day, playing quietly in the floor with her favorite soft toys or clanging and banging away with pan lids in the kitchen while Joe fixed dinner. Her bath time would be coming soon, and she would pitch such a fit if Joe wasn't there to save her from the drain monster.

Please, God, please. Let Sofi come home and I'll make sure she never eats another food additive in her life. I'll never lose my temper again, and I'll make sure she goes to mass every Sunday.

Please, God, let her come home and I'll let her have ice cream every night. She can sleep in the big bed with us and we'll never have sex again.

Please, God, just let her come home. Me for her, okay? Just send her home.

I hoped God was listening. I'd promise Him the most excellent promise I could make, do whatever task He asked, if He would just let my little girl come home. For that matter, I wasn't picky. I'd switch-hit and pray to the Devil himself if Sofi would just come back safe. Whatever it took, I would do it.

One by one, the streetlights came on, and I gave an involuntary shudder each time one lit. Each light was a knife in my heart, a reminder that my daughter wasn't safe and warm. The constant ebb and flow of people around me had ceased to make an impact. I sat like a sentinel at the window, waiting for Sofi. In some detached part of my mind, I heard people leaving, other people coming in, and the general hum of conversation, but I couldn't have told you from one minute to the next what had been said or by whom. I remembered Marie coming in at some point, Paulie seemingly attached to her hip. I have no idea what I said to her, but remembered sending them home to regroup, and hopefully rebuild their own tattered relationship. MaryLou was stalwart until I had sent her, too, home to take care of her own family.

Finally, the "core" group, as I'd come to think of us die-hards, were all that was left, everyone else dispersed until daybreak or some kind of new development unfolded. Tank and Lula were fixtures across the room, Ranger hadn't moved from the chair in hours. Joe paced periodically, and Remy did his best to keep him talking. Connie buzzed in and out carrying drinks, clearing plates, and generally just keeping her hands busy once the grandmothers had abandoned the kitchen.

I knew all the beat cops had packed it in a few hours ago. Until we had a definite direction to point them, their time was wasted just running in circles looking for a needle in a haystack.

Tony and Beth had been the last to leave, stopping back by to tell us that my father and his lodge brothers were going to canvass two more streets with flyers bearing Sofi's picture before they called it a night. They would pick up more flyers and start again in the morning.

I shivered with a combination of cold and dread. Joe noticed and came to sit next to me on the couch, routinely tucking my feet up under his sweatshirt as he had on so many other nights. He never missed a beat in his conversation with Remy, which seemed to revolve around whether or not to call in an FBI profiler yet. Joe was understandably wanting to leave no stone unturned, but Remy thought we didn't have anything concrete for the profiler to use and it might be better to wait until a ransom demand or other evidence surfaced.

Running his fingers impatiently through his longish black hair, Remy expostulated, "Look, Joe, all I'm saying is that a profiler doesn't do any good until you have some clues they can try to put together. I honestly don't think a profiler could tell you any more right now than what we already know. With no ransom demand, and no sign of foul play, the odds are that the abductor was a woman, maybe infertile, but somehow fixated on Sofi. Until we get something else to go on, that's it."

"You think the abductor was a woman?" I asked. "Why?"

Remy shrugged. "Educated guess. With a man you'd be more likely to have a ransom note. Also, there was no sign of blood or semen on the sheets in the nursery."

I felt the blood drain out of my face. "Jesus, God…" I gasped.

"For God's sake, Remy," Joe yelled.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I forgot I was talking to…" Remy broke off.

"A civilian? Yeah, I know. Be quiet, Joe. I asked." Joe was still unhappy with Remy for upsetting me, but I was kicking myself in the ass for my reaction. I worked in forensics, I shouldn't have lost it like that, but I had truly never, ever put Sofi together with blood and semen, even in the blackest part of my heart. I knew better. Knew that unspeakable things happen to children every day, despite the best protection their parents could give them. I just didn't want to think about it in terms my Sofi.

A knock sounded just then; frantic, urgent. Even though he was across the room, Joe reached the door before anyone else could react and threw it open. Dickie Orr stood on our front stoop, disheveled and stammering.


	21. Chapter 21

Joe stood as if poleaxed. "What the hell?" he demanded.

Dickie swallowed convulsively. "Look," he stammered. "I'm not a kidnapper, okay? I know where she is, but I need to cut a deal." Dickie's voice ended in a sharp squeak as Joe slammed him up against the wall.

"What the fuck do you mean? What the hell have you done to my daughter?" I had never seen Joe like this. Dickie's face was turning a deep red, and Joe didn't show any signs of loosening the grip he had on Dickie's throat.

"Look, that's what I'm trying to tell you. It wasn't me, okay? I didn't know she meant it. I thought it was just the booze talking."

Remy went over and shoved his badge in front of Dickie's bulging eyes. "You see this? I'm an FBI agent. You need to start talking. Now." Remy forcibly removed Joe's fingers from Dickie's throat, and unceremoniously shoved him at the nearest chair. Dickie collapsed in a heap, as Tank and Ranger moved silently to either side of the chair. Dickie was surrounded, and he knew there was no hope of escape. He nervously slicked back his thinning hair and tried on some bravado. "Look, I'd like to point out that I'm here on my own. I came here voluntarily. I just don't want to be hung out to dry for trying to do the right thing."

"The right thing?" Once again, Joe was in a fury and ready to pounce on Dickie at the slightest provocation.

"Start at the beginning," said Remy, "And talk fast. I can't hold him back forever." He canted his head in Joe's direction, and I swear I could practically see Joe's teeth rotate he was grinding his jaw so hard.

"Okay. Last night I went down to Angelo's Bar for New Year's Eve. I was sitting at a bar stool minding my own business when Terry Gilman waltzed in and sat down next to me." Joe's face turned chalk white, and he sat back and leaned against the wall, as if his legs could no longer support him.

"I admit it—we had something in common. Neither one of us can stand the sight of the two of you." He glanced at Joe, and then back at me.

"Yeah, you made that clear when you fucked Joyce Barnhardt on the dining room table, Dickie. Cut to the chase and tell me what you did to my daughter, you son of a bitch." I was practically growling. Now that he was in front of me, the sheer scope of my rage surprised me.

"Don't get high and mighty with me, Stephanie," Dickie spit. "At least Joyce could remember my name when I was fucking her which is more than I can say for you!"

I bared my teeth and moved toward Dickie with my fingernails flexed, ready to rip his stupid, lying face off.

"Okay, okay!" He held up his hands in surrender. "We both had a lot to drink, but pretty soon Terry started talking crazy. It was like she thought you had stolen her baby—her baby with Joe." I shook my head at him. That didn't make any sense. "I told you it was crazy! I'm just telling you what she said, okay? So she was talking like Sofia was her baby with Joe, and she had to steal her back. I was shit-faced drunk by then, and when she invited me to leave with her, I honest to God thought she just wanted to get laid. I didn't know she was really going to take the baby until we were here."

"Swear to God, Stephanie, I tried to talk her out of it. I swear to you, I did. But she was acting crazy. And I started worrying about what would happen if I left her alone with the kid. So I stayed with her, to make sure she didn't hurt the kid." Dickie was looking at me beseechingly, and I kind of believed him. He was a worm of a man, but he'd never been dangerous. Stupid and selfish yes, but not violent.

"I spent all day today trying to calm her down. I finally got her to trust me enough to let me go out and buy the kid more diapers and milk. Swear to God, I came straight here. You gotta believe me. I'm not a kidnapper. I've got my reputation to think about, my law practice. But I couldn't leave her until I was sure the kid was safe." Dickie was breathing hard, and the spit was flying he was talking so fast. I didn't' think he was lying.

"Where is she?" Joe bit out.

"Terry's apartment. She's in the second bedroom. She's got a whole baby's room set up in there. Scary as hell. Terry doesn't even have kids." Dickie answered readily.

"One last thing," said Joe, just before he hit Dickie with a beautiful roundhouse swing straight to the jaw. "Don't you ever come near my family again, or I'll kill you." Dickie worked his jaw experimentally, then nodded as he looked away. Joe wasn't boasting. Dickie would not be breathing if Joe ever saw him again.

Ranger and Remy were both simultaneously talking urgently into their cell phones, mobilizing the people who had been on high alert all day with no place to go. We finally had a location,

And a name.

As I looked at Joe's bleached face, I vowed that Terry Gilman would never again touch our family with her tainted claws.

Fifteen minutes later, Dickie was on his way back to Terry's apartment, and the FBI and Trenton PD had both been notified and told about the rough plan for rescuing Sofi. Cop cars had already moved in stealthily to make an impenetrable perimeter. Remy's FBI helicopters were at high altitude where Terry wouldn't see or hear them, yet her building was under complete surveillance from the sky with infrared scopes. Rangeman employees were strategically placed to augment the law enforcement types, and a rough plan was already in place.

Joe would be bait for Terry, and try to lure her away from the back bedroom. Ranger's men were already in place on the roof of the apartment building, ready to lower down to the bedroom window where we believed Sofi was being held. Ranger would actually enter the apartment, then hopefully hand Sofi off to Lester through the window. If necessary, Lester would lower Sofi down to Tank who would be waiting on the ground below the window. Remy would coordinate the law enforcement personnel on site.

Joe had gone upstairs to change into dark clothes, and I took advantage of his absence to load my Sig and carefully concealed it deep in my purse. With any luck, Sofi would be recovered without incident, but I wanted my pound of flesh. Terry Gilman didn't know it, but her breaths were numbered. A cold certainty calmed my heartbeat, and I was ready to roll.

We said little on the ride to Terry's apartment building, each of us lost in their own thoughts. We had left Lula and Connie at the house, but I hadn't even considered staying behind. It was my right as Sofi's mother to be there, and I dared anyone to argue the point.

We pulled up in front of Terry's building, and I saw Ranger ooze around the side of the building and disappear. Tank is bulkier, but he didn't make a sound as he too, disappeared. I saw Remy move toward a dilapidated brown van and realized that the van was probably the decoy vehicle for the backup entry team.

Joe's face was hard in the moonlight, and he pulled out his cell phone and began to dial.

"Be careful," I whispered, and kissed him hard and fast.

"You, too," he said, then pushed the button to connect.

"Terry, it's Joe. Pick up the phone, Terry. Look, Terry, I know you're there. Please pick up the phone. We need to talk." I was amazed at the control in his voice. He sounded warm, even anxious, though his face was still a hard mask. He dropped his head and hung up. "Come on, come on, come on." He muttered.

A few minutes later, the cell phone finally rang, and we both breathed a sigh of relief. Joe held up his hand in an unnecessary reminder for me to be quiet, but I was so tense I was barely breathing. "Terry? Yeah, it's Joe. Listen, I really need to talk to you. Can I come up?" He listened for a moment. "No, Terry. I'm not mad. I just want to talk about you and me and the baby. We need to plan for the future." I nodded in appreciation. Joe hadn't lied to her. He did want to talk about Terry and the baby, and he did have a plan. His plan didn't include Terry walking free.

My plan didn't include Terry breathing.

I kept my breathing slow and regular, unwilling to give myself away even to Joe. "Okay," I heard him say, "I'll be right up."

Joe stopped to kiss me goodbye, then signaled Remy to let him know he was going inside. With luck, Lester, Ranger and Tank were all in place and ready to move. Remy had fitted Joe with a microphone, so they could stay in contact, but I wasn't able to listen in.

I stayed hunched down on the seat of the Explorer, barely moving, waiting for the word that Sofi was safe.

Finally, finally, at long last, Tank came around the side of the building, his massive thighs eating the ground at a ferocious rate. He ran past Remy and the feds, and dodged the well-meaning uniforms who tried to intercept him. I felt tears sting my eyes, as I realized he was making a bee-line straight for the Explorer and there could be only one reason. I wrenched open the door of the Explorer and practically flew from the seat. I launched myself at Tank's massive chest, and he caught me as I ran. "Is she okay? Is she okay? Where is she?" My words ran over the top of each other, and I gave him no chance to answer.

His teeth gleamed like the finest ivory in his ebony face as he carefully unzipped his jacket. "I think she likes Uncle Tank," he said happily, and Sofi's inquisitive head popped up over the top of his zipper.

"Ma!" Sofi squealed in delight, and I snatched her to me, practically squeezing the breath out of her until she began to protest in earnest, wiggling and squirming in an effort to get free of my hard embrace. I loosened my hold on her and laughed into her dear, sweet face. I had never heard a more welcome sound in my entire life. I covered her in kisses, and once again, she tried to wiggle free. My own sweet Sofi. The feel of her weight and her warmth in my arms was like a benison to my ragged soul.

"She's got a gun!" Remy's shout rang out resoundingly in the night. I felt like I had plunged into icy water. Joe was still inside. Frantically shoving Sofi at Tank, I kissed the top of her head fervently then said, "Don't you let go of her, Tank. No matter what. Don't you let go!"

"I won't," he promised and moved to carry my most precious Sofi back to safety, back beyond the perimeter.

I racked the Sig and moved resolutely forward toward the door of the apartment building. Just as I approached, Joe dove through the doors and rolled quickly out of the line of sight. I raised my arm, the Sig a perfect extension of my own hand, thick and responsive in my palm. Terry skidded through the door, then came to a screeching halt as she saw the barrel of the gun centered with perfect calm dead in the middle of her forehead. Her own arm raised, and a small revolver glinted menacingly in the artificial light.

"I've got eighteen shots with your name on them, Terry," I bit out.

She laughed grimly. "If I can't kill you with six shots, I deserve to die," she spat.

I inclined my head incrementally. "I'll make sure they inscribe that on your tombstone."

"She should have been MINE!" Terry screamed. "Joe belonged to ME, and his baby should have been MINE! Not yours! Never yours!"

I shook my head sadly at her. Really, she was pitiful. So full of hate and anger that she really had no concept of love. Suddenly, my burning hatred mutated into something else. Pity. I could only pity Terry. I didn't want her anywhere near my family, but she truly had lost the only things she had ever cared about. She had nothing. And while I might never have the might and money of the Grizollis, I had something far more precious. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, Terry would never have Joe, would never know what it was like to wake up next to him in the mornings, and talk with him late into the night. She'd never see his face light up when she bore his children.

Suddenly, Joe materialized behind me. His arm wrapped around me and he spoke quietly into my ear. "Put the gun down, Cupcake. It's going to be okay. You don't need to do this." As he was speaking, I looked up into his face. He looked directly at Terry, then his hand deliberately, tauntingly, slid down my still-flat belly to rest reassuringly on the small bump where our son lay sleeping. Numbly, I nodded my head and started to lower the gun.

Everything spun out of control at that moment. I heard a primal scream from Terry, followed by a veritable rain of gunfire. Joe had spun me around at the last possible second, exposing his back to Terry's wrath, and her bullets. I felt the double impact and heard Joe groan as his weight collapsed against me. Stricken, I held onto him for all I was worth, refusing to let him go even as the EMT's descended, as if I could will him to stay alive.

"Joe!" I screamed his name, over and over. There was no tell-tale reassuring rise and fall of his chest, and his eyes were open and glassy as he lay on the pavement. "Joe, please!" I begged. I couldn't lose him now. Not after we'd just found each other. I couldn't face the possibility of a life that didn't have Joe Morelli in it. "Joe!"

"M'okay." I hadn't imagined it. His eyes blinked. "I'm okay, Cupcake. Son of a bitch, that hurts like hell! Shit!" His breath had been knocked out of him, but he waved off the EMTs. I helped him sit up, and he peeled off his sweater, exposing a badly tattered bullet proof vest. Impatiently pulling at the Velcro tabs, he shook off the vest and turned it around to see the damage done to the back. "Shit that hurts." He tried in vain to look over his shoulder and examine his back.

I quickly lifted his t-shirt and saw what he was looking for: two ugly contusions were rapidly forming where the force of the impact had broken blood vessels and bruised muscle. Miraculously, the lead lumps were still embedded well within the confines of the Kevlar vest that now rested in Joe's lap. "You've got a couple of good bruises back here," I told him, relief making my hands less than steady as I lowered the hem of his shirt.

Joe nodded tiredly, then stumbled to his feet. "Never did trust that bitch. Now where's Sofi?" His eyes began flickering over the personnel milling all over the crime scene. I caught a quick glimpse of Terry Gilman's mutilated corpse before she was mercifully covered with a sheet from the EMT's. Brian Gaspick arrived panting and out of breath.

"You son of a bitch! Do you have any idea how much we had invested in her as an informant? We needed her alive!" He was practically foaming at the mouth, he was so enraged.

"Suicide by cop, you see it all the time," replied Joe laconically.

"Bullshit! I saw what you did! You deliberately provoked her!"

Remy sauntered up, cool as anything. "You're overwrought Detective Gaspick. It's understandable. Nobody likes being on a scene like this. I saw Detective Morelli go to his wife and ask her to lower her weapon, which she did. At that point, Ms. Gilman fired at Detective Morelli, and strategically placed law enforcement personnel returned fire. It was an unfortunate incident, but completely unavoidable, as my report will state." Remy locked eyes with Gaspick, and Gaspick looked away first. He stormed off in the other direction, still muttering under his breath.

"You did provoke her, though, Joe." I said solemnly. "You knew it would send her over the edge when you touched my belly like that."

"Yeah, I knew. And I knew what would happen next. Mostly I knew my pregnant wife didn't need the stress of a manslaughter trial. I knew she would fire, and I knew they would take her down."

Joe stopped and looked straight at me. "I have no regrets, Stephanie. She was a danger to our family, and I will do whatever I have to do to keep my family safe."

I nodded in understanding, then slipped my hand into Joe's as we went to collect our chocolate smeared daughter from Uncle Tank's indulgent embrace.

Epilogue:

Several weeks later:

The hammering and banging had mercifully ended twenty minutes before the Superbowl was due to start. Ranger showed me and Joe the workings on the keypad of the new security system he'd just installed as a late Christmas present for Sofi.

"Do NOT shoot the keypad. And probably you don't want to use the nanny cam after she's a teenager," he ventured.

Chuckling at the thought of an outraged teenage Sofi, I concurred.

"Thank you," said Joe, and stuck out his hand to shake Ranger's.

"No problem."

I slid around them, and went into the kitchen to help Lula. We hadn't done anything as mundane as cook, but the assortment of chips were in bowls instead of bags, and a huge pile of Pino's meatball subs filled the largest serving platter I'd been able to borrow. I quickly snagged an apple and an orange from the dining room table as I made my way back into the livingroom.

I quickly tossed the apple and orange at Ranger. "Thank you, God, for something without nitrites," he muttered.

I shot him a fishy look, and Joe told him, "You don't know what you're missing, man!"

"I'll pass," deadpanned Ranger, as he settled himself more comfortably in the easy chair and bit into his apple.

Joe shuffled quickly through the pile of papers on the coffee table to make room for the now-teetering tower of sandwiches. Glancing through the miscellaneous catalogs and offers, he picked up a cream colored envelope. Waving it in front of my face, he asked, "Who the hell are Tallulah and Sherman, and why do we have a wedding invitation from them?"

It suddenly got very quiet on the sofa, and I heard a softly muttered "Holy shit," come from Ranger's direction. I turned and looked directly at Lula and Tank for the first time. Lula had her head down, looking uncharacteristically shy, and Tank was practically bursting with pride while ostentatiously playing with a completely enamored Sofi.

"Well, it seemed like a good idea to get married before the baby comes," Lula said quietly.

Oh, my God. I think I probably even said it out loud. We had always thought that Ramirez had made it impossible for Lula to get pregnant. Obviously, Tank hadn't let that slow him down much.

"Oh, my God." This time I knew I said it out loud for sure. "I'm so happy for you guys!" I tried to hug them both at the same time, but that was a pretty mean feat considering the size of the two of them.

Ranger and Joe added their heartfelt congratulations just as Remy and Connie arrived. Of course, _they_ had to be brought up to speed, and good wishes extended yet again.

Finally, the game was getting ready to start and we all settled deeply into the cushions to watch. Ranger looked over at Joe and I, curled up in the loveseat and spoke. "You two still planning that cruise next month for your honeymoon?"

"Yeah," answered Joe easily. "We fly down to Miami in two weeks."

Ranger nodded thoughtfully. "I'm heading down there later in the week to stay for a couple weeks. Why don't you let Julie and I take you out to dinner when you get in?"

"That would be great," I enthused. "I'd love to see Julie again." I really hoped this meant what I thought it did. It would be good for Julie and Ranger to finally be able to build the relationship they had always lacked.

"You gonna make me eat tofu?" Joe made a pained face.

"Hell, yes, I'm going to make you eat tofu. You have any idea what that crap they're going to feed you on that ship will do to your arteries? I'm probably saving your life!" Ranger ribbed Joe.

"Yeah, but what about quality of life?" Joe responded.

I shook my head and tuned them out. Once they got started, neither one would ever quit, and I didn't want to miss the big game.


End file.
